


Salt Air [ON INDEFINITE HIATUS]

by athenswrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Loosely inspired by a Taylor Swift song, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slow Burn, Song: august (Taylor Swift), dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athenswrites/pseuds/athenswrites
Summary: THIS WORK IS ON AN INDEFINITE HIATUS"The main characters are from two families that hate each other, and then they end up falling head over heels for each other in one day? That's like..." Draco paused as he thought about his answer for a second. He lifted his finger and waved it in between himself and Hermione."That's like if we fell in love," he finished. "We hate each other, it simply would never work."
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 49
Kudos: 65





	1. The Assignment

Romeo and Juliet were completely and utterly  _ daft _ . 

At least, that’s what Hermione thought when she gently snapped the pages of her novel shut. She was finishing up the last act when the sun began to cast a lazy golden glow across its pages.

The lovers had died. 

She enjoyed the story, but Hermione still found it strange. How could two people,  _ enemies nonetheless _ , fall in love so deeply that they would take their lives for each other? It didn't make any sense to her, she would never sacrifice herself for someone out of romantic interest. In fact, she couldn’t see herself bewitched by anyone at all. 

She thought she fancied Ron up until last year; when they shared a short illicit kiss by the Great Lake. It was sloppy, and quite frankly, foul. She knew then and there that she only saw the ginger as a friend. The memory of it simply made her cringe and shrivel up in pure embarrassment.

The young witch left the lonely cabin she was seated in and into the narrow corridors of the Hogwarts Express. Her fingers grazed over the edges of her book, the train rocking rhythmically beneath her feet. 

She had left her own cabin when Harry and Ron fell asleep. It didn't take long for their snores to become unbearable. Hermione could barely register what she was reading with their incessant snoring ringing in her ear every few seconds. She retreated to an empty cabin to read the distinguished Shakespeare play in peace. There, she could absorb every word to its full extent and react without bothering the boys. 

Hermione fixed her gaze out past the misted windows. She loved the way the rolling hills and fields of green looked at this time of day. The way the fiery light of the setting sun bounced off the lake and onto the September trees always took her breath away. A small smile crept its way onto her lips. They should be nearing Hogwarts soon and she’d begin her fifth year. 

Her body was suddenly met with a tall figure, causing her to stumble back a few steps. Though she regained her balance, Hermione's book was not as lucky. It slipped out of her fingers and landed in front of her with a loud thud.

"I'm so sorry," she flushed, tucking her mocha-colored curls behind her ear as she kneeled down to pick her belonging back up. Just as her fingers were about to make contact with the cover, the sole of an expensive black leather shoe stepped on it. 

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed into a tight knot as her eyes darted up to meet the person who was so rudely stepping on her precious book. She firmly believed literature should be treated with the most utmost care; seeing a shoe pressed on her book was infuriating. A pair of cold grey eyes stared back at her and the platinum-haired boy's mouth twisted into a disgusted snarl. 

_ Of course, it was him.  _

"Watch where you're going, filthy Mudblood," Draco Malfoy sneered. The Gryffindor scowled at the derogatory term he tossed at her. If she had a galleon for every time he used that word on her, Hermione would be more wealthy than the boy himself. Apparently, that was the only insult he had in his vocabulary. If he was going to be rude, she thought he could at least be clever about it. 

Malfoy bent down and grabbed her book from under his foot in one smooth motion, examining it with narrowed eyes. His right eyebrow raised into a curious arch. It was a look she knew all too well and Hermione prepared herself for another barrel of insults. Perhaps she should've stayed in her cabin after all. 

He scoffed, punching the inside of his cheek with his tongue, "Shakespeare, Granger? You're even more predictable than I thought. Of course, you're into this atrocious fucking muggle literature."

She rolled her eyes and got up, "Shakespeare is a classic, Malfoy. You'd know if you weren't so caught up in your pretentious Pureblood bullshit." 

He shoved the book back into Hermione's chest, "Just accept it, Granger. You and all your muggle-born friends are disgusting scum."

He gave Hermione one last dirty glare before pushing past her and disappearing past a door. She dusted off the skid marks on her book, grumbling a series of frustrated words under her breath. She was exhausted with putting up with Malfoy’s insane Pureblood agenda, but a part of her didn't blame the Slytherin. She'd met Lucius Malfoy once, and it was clear where Draco had got his personality and beliefs from. Hermione brushed the interaction to the back of her mind and quickly made her way back to the cabin. 

⚯͛

The dirt and dried Autumn leaves crunched under the Golden Trio’s feet as they walked to the carriages. They'd just gotten off the Hogwarts Express and were only a short distance from the school. The towering castle loomed over them, Hermione could already smell the roast awaiting them in the Great Hall. Harry and Ron hoisted themselves onto one and just as she was about to follow suit, Ron stopped her. 

"There isn't any space, Hermione," he pointed out, looking around the carriage. He was right, the other seats were filled by two Ravenclaw girls: Cho Chang and Luna Lovegood. Hermione gave them a small wave and an awkward smile. 

She turned to Ron with a frown, "Where do you suggest I sit then?" 

"That one has an empty spot," Luna suggested airily and pointed to the carriage next to them. Hermione looked in the direction the Ravenclaw was pointing at to see a wagon full of Slytherins, her eyebrows tightened. There was no way she was getting in that death trap.

"Not a chance," she hissed, her eyes darting back between the two carts. Surely, her friends wouldn't make her sit there alone. 

Luna shrugged, her eyes wandered to the top of her head like she was thinking hard. She tapped a pale finger against her chin. "You could always walk, walking is quite good for the body."

Hermione exhaled loudly, she couldn't possibly walk up the steep cliff. She narrowed her eyes at Ron, her voice thick with venom, "I'll see you at the Great Hall if those Slytherins don't push me off the carriage first." 

She trudged over to the next cart and immediately, the laughter in it died down. Hermione could feel their piercing eyes drilling through her skull. She kept her head down and lifted herself inside and onto the uncomfortable seats. 

"Well, if it isn't the Mudblood," a condescending voice next to her snickered. Hermione closed her eyes in frustration, she'd heard that voice one too many times today. "Tired of the wonder twins already?"

Hermione groaned. She felt the self-drawn carriage began to move down the rocky road, there was no turning back now. 

The next half hour was torture. If there was anything she wanted more, it was to be relieved of this horrid carriage ride. She swore the Slytherins were one degrading comment away from tossing her off the cart and into the ravine. They'd laugh as her body bounced off the sharp rocks and plunged into the unforgiving sea. And it didn't help that her growing headache was amplified when the wheels hit a rock in the road.

"Why aren't you saying anything, Granger?" Pansy whined from across her, her brown hair was pulled into a ponytail. Hermione had to hold herself back from lunging forward and yanking on it. "This would be more fun if you actually reacted." 

The lone Gryffindor narrowed her eyes. "Though this may come as a surprise to you, I don’t enjoy making others miserable just so I can feel better about my own sorry life. I couldn’t say the same about you, Parkinson."

Pansy's smirk immediately fell and a series of ooo's erupted from the rest of the carriage. Hermione's face twisted into a look of bewilderment as she stared back at the rest of the Slytherins, "That applies to you idiots too, there's no wonder why you nincompoops aren't in Ravenclaw." 

“You filthy fucking-” Malfoy’s voice said next to her.

Thankfully, the carriage had come to a stop in front of Hogwarts. Hermione hopped off before he had a chance to finish his sentence. She knew what he was going to say anyway.

_ Mudblood _ .  _ Mudblood _ .  _ Mudblood _ . 

It was always that bloody revolting word. Even though she tried not to let it get to her, Hermione hated the eight-letter term with every bone in her body. 

She found her friends at their usual spot at the Great Hall and slid into her seat, mood diminished from the nightmare ride. She cursed them for ruining her first day at Hogwarts. Grabbing a roll of bread off a wicker basket, Hermione ripped off a piece of the fluffy baked good and popped it into her mouth. 

"Glad to see you're still in one piece," Ron said cheerfully. His cheeks were round and stuffed with all sorts of food already. He reminded her of a squirrel she saw once. She gave him a nonchalant nod. 

“Bloody hell, Hermione,” Harry’s eyebrows rose. His eyes were focused past her head and towards the entrance of the Great Hall. She lowered the bread roll and followed his gaze. “What happened?”

The group of Slytherins she was forced to sit with was striding in. They held their typical proud arrogance, but it was clear their egos were bruised. Draco was at the front of them like always, his chin held high as they made their way to their house table. His grey eyes flickered over to Hermione's and a cold chill ran down her spine. She tore her stare off Malfoy and back to her friends. 

"Someone had to put them in their place," Hermione shrugged, popping another piece of the bread into her mouth. 

After Dumbledore had made his beginning of the year remarks and introduced the new DADA teacher, Dolores Umbridge (who Hermione thought was wearing the most atrocious outfit she had ever seen, she swore if she looked at that color any longer, she would've become blind), Hermione parted ways with her friends. She wanted to grab some books at the library before going to the Gryffindor Common Room first. The corridor leading to her happy place was dimly lit and abandoned. Everyone was ostensibly playing catch up in their respective Common Rooms and dorms.

"Granger!" Malfoy's voice ricocheted off the walls.

Hermione groaned, she was well over her quota with dealing with Malfoy.  _ Plus _ , it was only the first day. She ignored his approaching presence and proceeded to walk towards the library, increasing the length of her strides. 

"Granger, I know you can hear me," Draco snarled, she could hear his footsteps right behind him. "No one fucking talks to me that way and gets away with it." 

She continued walking until she felt a hand on her shoulder pulling her back. Hermione let out a small yelp as she felt her back slam across the cold stone wall. Draco stepped in front of her and dug his wand into the crook where her chin and neck met. 

"What the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy?" Hermione hissed, she snaked her arm behind her back and wrapped her fingers around her own wand. 

Draco's jaw tightened, "You'll pay for what you said back in the carriages, what hex would you prefer?"

"Oh  _ boo hoo _ , did the little Mudblood hurt the great Draco Malfoy's ego?" Hermione pouted. His wand dug further into her skin with every word she spoke. It hurt, but she would rather die than show Malfoy any signs of weakness. "Let me guess, your father will hear about this?" 

"Shut up! I can ruin you, Granger, you and your disgusting muggle parents. You don't deserve to be here."

Hermione could feel her simmering blood rise to a rolling boil under her skin. She could put up with Malfoy’s insults, but she drew the line when he targeted her parents. She drew her wand out of her pocket, pointing it at the blond. His confidence wavered and it almost made her laugh. "I know more hexes than you do Malfoy, stand down or I'll have you spitting slugs for the next week. Does your face need to be reminded of the time my fist met it?" 

The Malfoy heir scowled and withdrew his wand from Hermione's neck. She coughed roughly, rubbing the burning area on her neck where his wand had been. He was a coward. Beneath all his coldness and fabricated boldness, she knew he'd always been one. 

"Know your place, Mudblood," Malfoy spat before disappearing down the dark hall. 

The next day, Hermione watched as Professor Umbridge and Harry engaged in a heated debate over the Dark Lord. The Ministry's refusal to acknowledge his return was going to kill them all and no one was doing anything about it. It frustrated Hermione.

"Enough!" Umbridge's squeaky voice cut Harry off. Her usual proper demeanor was replaced with a frustrated one, the Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher was breathing heavily as she stared at the boy with widened eyes. She quickly recovered herself and smiled again. 

"Enough," she echoed, this time more softly. Umbridge cleared her throat and folded her hands together, looking at Harry, "Meet me at my office after class, Potter. And as for the class..."

She took her piercing eyes off Harry and scanned the class, "You will all be doing a project in pairs on the dark arts, you can thank Mr. Potter for that." 

A series of groans erupted from the class. A balled piece of paper flew across the classroom, hitting Harry in the head. 

"You will ask each other a list of prepared questions to get to know each other. Before Christmas, I expect a presentation on every one of your findings," Umbridge continued. "Knowing the strengths of your teammates and the weaknesses of your opponents is crucial."

Hermione's hand shot up. 

The professor pointed her wand at her, "Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"How does this have anything to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts? Shouldn't we be learning defensive spells?" 

When Umbridge’s face twisted into another scowl, Hermione thought for a second that the professor might lose her composure again. "Fine, since Ms. Granger here wants to do something related to the Dark Arts so badly, I expect a fully detailed paper on its history as well."

The class groaned again and this time, a paper ball hit Hermione in the head. She whipped her head around, sending an intense death glare to Malfoy who was laughing to himself. He high-fived Crabbe.

"Will we get to choose our partners?" Ron asked. 

"Unfortunately not, Mr. Weasley, I will choose for you," the professor smiled. "And because she had so much to say, let's start with Ms. Granger, how about I pair you up with..." 

Umbridge hummed as she scanned the class for Hermione's partner until her eyes stopped. She raised her wand and pointed at the back of the class. The Gryffindor girl's heart dropped to the floor, she knew exactly who the professor was looking at. 

"Malfoy. And you stop throwing paper around before I send you to detention." 

"Shit!" 

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor screeched throughout the classroom, causing a wave of silence to fall upon the classroom. 

"What are you doing, Hermione?" Harry hissed, leaning from his desk to her's. His eyes were wide with confusion as they darted between the professor and his friend.

Hermione blinked. She was standing. And she had just cursed very loudly. A rush of heat flooded her cheeks as she went to sit back down. She could feel the eyes of everyone on her, especially Malfoy's.

"Sorry," she muttered to her teacher. She groaned and let her head fall to the table with a thump as the professor continued assigning partners to the rest of the class. Out of everyone she could've been paired with, Umbridge just had to put her with bloody  _ Malfoy _ . She wanted to tear her hair out, it would be less painful than working with him.

The rest of the lesson dragged on and Hermione grabbed her bag, desperate to escape. Ron and Harry appeared next to her as they left the lecture hall. 

"That Umbridge is seriously delusional," Ron said, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. 

Hermione exhaled loudly and threw her hands in the air, "Tell me about it, she's got me working with Malfoy! I'd rather throw myself off the astronomy tower than work with that insufferable brat."

"Well, I'd rather tie myself to the tracks of the Hogwarts Express than work with a Mudblood," Draco spat, passing by the trio. "I'd gladly conduct the train," Hermione fired back, anger bubbling in her chest. Her fist ached to punch him again. "Piss off, Malfoy."

The wizard scowled and Hermione was about to fire back another insult when she felt a hand on her arm. Ron was looking at her with a gentle expression. 

"He's not worth it Hermione, let's just go to our next class," he said softly, looking at her with that endearing expression she could never say no to.

She huffed and shot one last dirty glare at Malfoy before turning to Harry. "Good luck with Umbridge, we'll see you later."

He nodded and Hermione turned to follow Ron to their next class. She could feel the Slytherin's eyes burning through her back as she walked down the hall. If she was going to get through an entire project without strangling the life out of Malfoy, she was going to need a miracle. 

⚯͛

The ear-splitting sound of bangs echoed throughout the hall, causing Hermione to flinch a little. Filch was hammering a small wooden frame in between the cracks of cobblestone that held the school together. There was a parchment in it, she squinted hard, trying to decipher the words. 

Dolores Umbridge had been appointed to the post of Hogwarts High Inquisitor. 

Mumbles and whisperings washed over the crowd of students watching. Hermione frowned, Hogwarts was sure to be heading towards a dull future if Umbridge was going to control everything. She wondered how the old school would look covered in pink banners and cat photos. 

"This bloody school might actually be worthwhile after all," someone said quietly beside her. She turned around to see Malfoy standing next to her, his arms crossed across his chest. Behind his blonde fringes, Hermione could see an amused glint in the boy's stormy-sea eyes. "When are we going to work on our blasted assignment because I would like to spend as little time with you as possible." 

Hermione shot him a dirty look, "Is it possible for something nice to leave your mouth?"

"No." 

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, already feeling a headache form in her temples. "Just meet me at the library in two hours, we can start discussing what to do our assignment on." 

Hermione spun on her heels and left for the dorms. She needed some alone time before she could have the mental capacity to deal with Malfoy. She exchanged a couple of awkward "hello's" and "good evening's" with her roommates when she entered her room. She'd known them since she first arrived at Hogwarts. And sure, the girls were pleasant people, but not someone Hermione could see herself become friends with. Ron and Harry were enough to deal with anyway. 

After a nice, refreshing shower, Hermione slipped into a set of clean clothes. She lit a candle and threw herself onto her bed, opening the book she picked up from the library yesterday. She figured she could fit in a couple of chapters of Little Women before meeting with Malfoy. One of her roommates was playing soft music on their vinyl, creating a peaceful atmosphere in the dorm room. Hermione melted into the pages of her book almost immediately. 

When the young witch arrived at the library, there were only a handful of students talking in hushed whispers and the lamps were dimly lit. She walked through the rows of bookshelves, her eyes peeled for platinum-blond hair. 

"Granger! Are you bloody blind?" Draco's voice called out from a row she just passed. Hermione took a few steps backward to see him sitting at a table, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. She pressed her lips into a thin line as she walked closer to Draco. She noticed he was already researching.

"The lights in here are barely lit, I couldn't see you," she said, defending herself. Hermione slid out the wooden chair next to him, the legs of it made a screeching sound as it scraped against the floor. 

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, "Merlin, why are you making so much fucking noise in a library? Out of everyone, I'd expect you to know library etiquette, Granger." 

When she settled down next to him, Draco noticed the brown-haired Gryffindor smelled the way a forest did after a rainstorm and of blooming spring flowers. He could also detect the faint scent of lingering smoke on her, perhaps from a recently lit candle. Draco paused. He had no business thinking about the way a Mudblood smelled. 

Next to him, Hermione had closed her eyes. She read about this breathing exercise earlier, it was supposed to calm you down in seconds, "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six-"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Draco scowled. She ignored him, continuing to countdown. Breathe in. Breathe out. She noticed the blonde-haired Slytherin smelled of green apples and pine trees, it was an oddly pleasing scent but she would never admit that. She pushed the intrusive thoughts out of her head and continued her mantra. 

"Five, four, three, two, one." 

She exhaled loudly and reopened her eyes, grabbing the list of questions Umbridge had prepared. “First question, what is your name?”

Draco's face twisted in annoyance and he scowled, "Oh bloody hell, Granger, you know my fucking name."

She glared at him before leaning down and scribbling his name across her journal. She admits it was indeed a dumb question, but she was just following instructions. She cleared her throat and moved on to the next question.

"What's your favorite colour?" 

"Green," he paused before continuing. "But not the disgusting blindingly bright shades that look like an elf's vomit. Green like an emerald."

Hermione tried her best not to react as she wrote down what he said "emerald, not elf vomit." Who knew someone would have so much to say about a simple colour. 

"Well?" Draco urged. He was visibly bored. "What is your favorite colour?" 

She thought about it for a few seconds before responding. "Ultraviolet."

"That's not a fucking color."

"It is, the human eye just can't see it," Hermione retorted. 

"Exactly, not a color. Why can't you say blue or something normal for once?"

"Just because it's different, doesn't mean it's wrong and doesn't deserve my respect." 

Draco huffed and wrote down her answer in his own journal. He always knew that Granger girl was delusional but her answer only established it further. Ultraviolet. What a stupid fucking answer. And that follow up statement she used to explain herself was even more ridiculous, he could think of at least fifty scenarios to prove her wrong. Daft cow. No, a cow could moo and make more sense than her. 

After tossing back and forth a few more questionable questions and receiving twice as foolish answers, Draco decided he could stand no more. His head was one "what's your favorite food?" away from exploding. Although that option didn't seem terrible, he'd do right about anything to stop talking to the Mudblood. Even being in the proximity of her made him sick to the stomach. 

"I can't stand this anymore," he groaned, standing up abruptly. "Let's call it a night and meet again tomorrow. Don't be late."

He grabbed his belongings and left the library before Hermione even got the chance to respond, leaving her and her thoughts alone in the darkening library. The witch rubbed her tired eyes and gathered her things before making her way back to the dorms.

Over the next couple of nights, Hermione met up with Draco to work on both parts of their Defence Against The Dark Arts project, mostly focusing on the paper because both could not stand asking each other any more questions. Through those nights, Hermione was forced to put up with degrading comments ranging from Mudblood to bitch. She tried her best to ignore it and take the high road, but the boy was testing her patience with each passing day. 

The crackling sound of the Gryffindor Common Room firepit coming to life snapped Hermione out of her thoughts. The flames twisted and turned until they formed the spitting image of Harry's godfather.

"Sirius!" 

Harry scrambled from his position on the couch and kneeled in front of the fire. Hermione watched as he talked to Sirius about Umbridge and the Ministry. She smiled to herself, the light had returned to his eyes. And it wasn't because he was dangerously close to flames, for the first time in a while, Harry didn't look troubled. It was nice to see her best friend be able to unload all the weight on his shoulders for once. The two exchanged a short conversation before the sound of someone approaching interrupted them. 

"You're on your own for now Harry," Sirius said apologetically. And as quickly as he came, the Order member turned to a pile of glowing ashes. 

Hermione turned to look out the window. The heavy rain hammered against it as flashes of lightning lit up the night sky. She closed her eyes, basking in the momentary peace she knew would soon be interrupted by the impending presence of war. 

"He's out there, we've got to know how to defend ourselves," she spoke, drawing in a shaky breath. "And if that vile oaf refuses to teach us, we've got to find someone who will." 

Harry walked next to her and watched the rain slide down the windowpane, "Let's do exactly what the Ministry doesn't want us to do then."

He muttered his next words so quietly Hermione almost missed it... almost.

"Let's build a bloody army."


	2. The Snow

There was something about snow that always stole Hermione's breath away, she always thought it was underappreciated. If one just took a step back and genuinely looked at it, they'd see that snow was anything but frigid bitterness. The product of winter was truly beautiful. Cold, and unforgiving only because it was produced in coldness. 

Hermione tugged the edges of her beanie over her ears, the tips of it were beginning to redden. The freshly fallen snow crunched underneath her boots, she wondered if they'd have time to go sledding later. It was one of her favorite activities to do with her parents.

She opened the door to a small bar on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. The boys sat at the table nearest to the door and shrugged off their thick winter jackets. 

"Now we wait," Hermione smiled, taking her seat next to Harry. The trio waited in awkward silence as people began to pile into the cramped tavern. Familiar faces and curious eyes stared back at her own. When Hermione was sure no one else was going to show up, she cleared her throat and stood up.

She gave the small crowd a small wave, "Hi, I'm Hermione Granger but um... you all probably already know that."

Her friends and classmates looked at her with blank expressions.

She pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded, "Anyways, the reason we're gathered here today is that we need a teacher. One who knows how to properly defend themselves from the Dark Arts."

Harry pulled out a ripped piece of parchment paper and a quill. He quickly scribbled Dumbledore's Army across the page and set it on the table in front of him.

"I know most of you don't exactly trust me," he began, standing up as well. "But you-know-who is back and he killed Cedric Diggory right in front of me. So you can either choose to ignore me and turn a blind eye to the truth of what is really happening..."

Harry pushed the piece of paper to the edge of the table. 

"Or you can join us and learn how to defend yourselves and others so the Wizarding World can live to see another day." 

After a short and heavy silence, one by one, each student stood up and signed their names across the page. Soon, the tavern had been emptied out to only Hermione, Harry, and the Weasleys. The group put on their winter clothing and headed back to Hogwarts. 

"Where do you suggest we practice?" Ron asked, burying his hands in his pockets. 

Harry readjusted his glasses and shrugged, "We'll figure it out, as long as it's anywhere Umbridge won't discover." 

They arrived at the school and their conversation became hushed whispers. A wave of warmth washed over the group as they entered the school. 

"Oi, Mudblood!"

Hermione turned to see Draco approaching her. She unraveled the scarf around her neck and wrapped the knitted red and gold yarn around her forearm.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she sighed, her shoulders slumping. 

He let out an amused laugh and looked over her shoulder, his eyes scanning the group, "How was your little Gryffindor field trip? Did you make snow angels and play with Frosty the Snowman?" 

The clique that always followed two steps behind him laughed at his pathetic joke. She paid them no attention. 

"If you wanted to join us, all you had to do was ask, Malfoy," she said dryly, the corner of her lips twitched. 

He practically guffawed, "Like I'd choose to spend time with Mudbloods and Blood Traitors."

Hermione’s fingers tightened into a fist. he was  _ really _ asking for it now. Just as she was about to lift her balled hand, she felt a tug on her arm, Ginny was pulling her away. What was it with Weasleys and stopping her from punching Malfoy?

"Let's just go," the youngest Weasley sibling muttered, staring at the Slytherin. Hermione shot him a threatening stare one last time before letting her friend drag her away. She could practically feel his smirk on her as she walked away.

⚯͛

The very next day,  _ another _ sodding educational decree appeared on the walls of Hogwarts.

Umbridge had banned all student organizations and anyone who refused to comply was to be expelled. It was ridiculous, but there was nothing anyone could do, not even Dumbledore. And to make matters worse, the DA still hadn't found a secure location to practice in. Merlin, they haven’t even come up with a feasible idea yet. 

Hermione was frustrated, to say the least. The Dark Lord and his army of Death Eaters were getting stronger by the day, she could feel it in the air and in her bones. Despite this, the Ministry continued to turn a blind eye to the truth about impending war. The Wizarding World was as good as dead. 

The witch found Draco at their usual spot in the library. His fingers were buried in his hair, small locks gripped in between them as he silently took notes on whatever he was reading.

"Have you finished the introduction yet, Malfoy?" she said, sitting next to the blonde. "We need to start on the rest of the history paper." 

Draco's eyes darted to her, "Yes, Granger, I'm not as fucking lazy as you think I am." 

"Will you stop using such foul language?" Hermione scowled, taking her materials out of her bag. He merely scoffed, returning his attention back to the textbook in front of him. 

"Remove the bloody stick from your arse, yeah? It's just a bloody word." 

The Gryffindor sucked in a harsh breath and closed her eyes. She held her hands up, "Not today, Malfoy, I am not in the mood to banter with you." 

" _ Fucking Mudblood _ ."

He had muttered the words under his breath, but Hermione had heard it loud and clear. She stood abruptly, startling the blonde. If looks could kill, Draco was sure he'd be dead. 

Hermione let out a mocking laugh and threw her arms out, "We're in a library, Malfoy. Go find yourself a  _ fucking _ dictionary, and come back when you’ve found a better insult than ‘ _ Mudblood’.  _ You'd think a spoiled brat like you would have a better vocabulary than first years." 

Draco's usually pale face reddened, he stood up to match her height and brought his face dangerously close to Hermione's. She could feel his angry breath on him, but she remained her composure, staring at him dead in the eye as he spoke. Eye contact meant power, and she was  _ not  _ inferior and weak as he claimed her to be.

"You filthy bitch," he growled, anger clouding his eyes. "I'm going to-"

"Going to what?" Hermione interrupted, furrowing her eyebrows. She could feel all her pent up frustration and anger rising past her chest. “Run to your father like you always do? Why don't you stand up for yourself for once, Malfoy? Daddy's not always going to be there to solve your problems." 

Before Draco could even respond, she turned and grabbed their research papers. She raised her eyebrows and smiled venomously at him, "But you know what  _ I'm _ going to do?"

She tore the notes he had been taking earlier in half. His eyes widened in horror at her actions, he went to grab the rest of their papers, but Hermione was quicker. 

" _ Reducto _ ."

The pages erupted into a million tiny pieces and floated gently to the floor. She was breathing heavily now as she watched their work settle around them like snow. Her knuckles were white from gripping her wand so tightly.

"Are you mad!?" Draco's hands flew to his head. "We spent days on all that research!" 

Hermione sneered and shoved her finger into his chest, "You brought this onto yourself, Malfoy. How many degrading comments did you think I would be able to take before I snapped? Mudblood or not, I am still a  _ person _ and I have  _ feelings  _ that are capable of being  _ hurt _ ."

He sputtered, "I-"

"Exactly," she responded flatly. Backing away, she pointed her wand at the mess, "Reparo." 

Slowly but surely, the ripped pieces of paper floated off the floor and found its counterpart before seamlessly reforging themselves back together again. Hermione grabbed the repaired stack of paper out of the air once the spell had finished, and shoved it into Draco's chest, causing him to take a few steps back. She blew a loose strand of hair out her face, locking her eyes onto his again. 

"Whether you like it or not Malfoy, our blood is exactly the  _ same _ . We are the  _ same _ . I'll see you tomorrow."

⚯͛

Tomorrow never came.

Hermione sat at their table for an hour before realizing that Malfoy was never going to show up. The next day came and went, but he didn’t appear again. On the third day, when his seat remained empty, Hermione decided she’d do the same and show up whenever she pleased. 

It was early evening when Neville burst into the Gryffindor Common Room, his forehead was beaded with drops of sweat. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on Harry. 

"What's wrong, Neville?" Hermione asked, rising to her feet along with the boys. 

The boy walked to the trio, "I found a place to...

Neville looked around to make sure no one was listening before lowering his voice.

_ "...you know _ ."

Harry's eyes widened as he readjusted his glasses, "Well, come on then, what are you waiting for? Lead us to the spot."

Longbottom nodded quickly, spinning on his heels as he led the trio out the room. They picked up DA members along the way, making sure they didn't seem too suspicious. Soon, the group arrived in front of a wall.

Ron furrowed his eyebrows, "This is-"

"Just wait, Ron," he interrupted, holding up a hand to silence the ginger. As if on cue, the wall began to crumble like sand, revealing a large wooden door with intricate details snaking around the panels. Harry stepped forward and pushed it gently, opening it. Inside, a vast and vacant room showed itself. It was perfect for practicing defensive spells.

"Brilliant, Neville!" Hermione gasped as the group entered the large room. "You've found the Room of Requirement, it's always suited to the user's needs."

The next hour flew by as Hermione helped Harry get things in order. Dumbledore's Army practiced a few spells, and after failing miserably, they decided to call it a day. When all the metal training soldiers were organized into a neat row on one side of the room, she let out a satisfied breath.

“Tonight was a smashing success, don’t you think?” Harry nodded in approval, placing his hands on his hips. “What do you say we get hot chocolate from the kitchens?”

Ron grinned, “Brilliant idea, mate. You coming, Hermione?” 

She waved them off and returned a small smile, “Go on without me, I need to grab a book from the library for our project.”

“Alright, we’ll grab you a cup,” the ginger said, leaving the room with Harry. “See you later.” 

After they split ways, it took her ten whole minutes to get from the Room of Requirement to the library. She browsed the shelves for historical texts before instinctively making her way to the table she and Malfoy usually sat at. When she rounded the corner, the sight of the platinum-haired boy hunched over the table caught her off guard.

"You're late, Granger," he growled when he noticed her. She let out an offended scoff and dropped the heavy textbook on the table. It landed with a loud bang, causing Malfoy to visibly flinch. 

“ _ I’m late _ ?” Hermione echoed, voice laced with venom. “And where the hell have you been the past two days?”

“Can’t I take a sodding break?” he scoffed, his pupils flickered past his fringe to her. 

Her eyes widened in disbelief, “So you can take two days off, but I can’t be late? What am I? Your bloody servant?”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want, Granger.”

“And I can’t?” 

“No, actually.”

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, “Care to enlighten me on why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re a Mu-” he caught himself and put his hand defensively on his papers. The Gryffindor drew in a long breath, composing herself before she acted irrationally again, “Can we please, just get through this assignment without any more mishaps?” 

“Finally, something we both can agree on,” he grumbled. Hermione sighed and retrieved her journal out of her bag. She unfolded the list of questions, her eyes scanning the parchment until they landed on the one they had stopped on the last time they spoke.

The questions Umbridge provided were noticeably getting more profound and honest. They were terrible and it made the two clearly uncomfortable at times. Clearing her throat, Hermione spoke, "What makes you feel most at peace?" 

“Umbridge is off her bloody rocker,” Malfoy sneered. “Peace might as well be nonexistent in times like this.”

“Could you… could you just answer without being clever for once?” 

He rolled his eyes, "My summer home. I haven’t been in years, but the only time I can recall being at  _ peace _ is when I was there on the beach. The air was always warm and tasted of sea salt."

A relieved breath left Hermione’s lips, “Thank you for saying something genuine.” Her voice audibly softened and she let go of the tension trapped in her shoulder blades. ”Why’d you stop going?”

His jaw tightened, "Things are changing Granger, they have been for a long time now. I'm sure you've noticed."

"Yes, but-"

"Drop it, Granger. I mean it," he warned, his tone was threatening. "It's your turn to answer the bloody question."

“Readi-

Draco threw his hands in the air, “Of fucking course, why did I even bother asking?”

A crease appeared between her eyebrows. She wondered when she would be able to say a full sentence without him interrupting, “ _ As I was saying,  _ reading a novel in a small room. Ideally, with a candle burning and faint jazz music on a record player. Harry James is quite brilliant, It’s Been A Long Long Time is my favourite song.”

“You listen to jazz? How increasingly boring can someone possibly get?” 

Hermione pursed her lips, resisting the urge to fire a witty comment back at the Slytherin. For a coward, Malfoy sure had loads of audacity and an awful lot to say. Then of course, it  _ was _ Malfoy. Being rude and inserting himself into situations was so characteristically him. The blond was the perfect representation of his house’s emblematic animal: a cold-blooded snake through and through. She poked the insides of her cheek with her tongue, “What kind of music do you listen to then?”

He cocked his head to the side, "Believe it or not, Granger, I enjoy classical pieces and I occasionally play the piano myself. There happens to be a very nice one in the music room."

“No way,” she imagined Malfoy leaned over a piano and suppressed an amused smile at how absurd it looked. “ _ You _ play the piano?”

"Don't act so fucking surprised, I have a life, you know."

"Okay, play something for me." 

"And why the bloody hell would I do that?" 

"Because I don't believe you," Hermione challenged the Slytherin. Oh, she believed him, alright. She wanted to hear him play, but Malfoy would never do it out of free-will. His superiority-complex mixed with his stubbornness produced a delightful condition Hermione called a: ‘cannot-be-wrong attitude’. She had a theory that he would do almost anything if he was challenged. "Prove it, Malfoy."

Draco stared at her for a few brief moments before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He pushed his chair back and gathered his belongings, "Fine."

Theory proved. Hermione did a mental victory dance inside her head and followed the boy to the music room. He muttered a quick unlocking spell before stepping inside. He then cast a silencing spell, as if the process was second nature to him. The room was dark except for the slivers of moonlight that came in between the windows.

The Gryffindor drew her wand, "Lumos." 

"Do you do this often? Break inside classrooms?" she asked as they walked towards the piano, the small glow on the tip of her wand illuminating the small space around them. 

He sat down and splayed his slender fingers across the white keys and some on the black, "Yes Granger, it's my favorite pastime, second to playing the piano, of course."

She was about to toss back a sarcastic response when Malfoy pressed down and began to play a melodic tune. Hermione recognized it immediately, Piano Sonata No.16 in C Major. She'd gone to a concert with her parents a few years ago, and the pianist had played this song. Leaning on the large instrument, the witch found herself getting lost in watching him play. 

Malfoy's fingers danced expertly across the keys like a ballerina on a stage. He seemed like a stranger to her in this state. The knot between his eyebrows that always seemed to linger had disappeared, and he looked calm. Relaxed. Like the Slytherin's worries have been washed away by the melody produced underneath his fingertips. He was showing a side of him that she had never seen before. And for the first time since she’s met him, Hermione thought maybe, _ just maybe, _ he wasn’t such a terrible person after all. 

"Have you gone deaf, Granger?" Draco's voice snapped her out of her trance. She realized he'd stop playing a while ago. "Satisfied?" 

Hermione blinked once before readjusting her stance off the piano, "That was brilliant. I didn't know you could play like that." 

He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair, slightly messing it up a bit. "That was nothing, I've done better." 

"Better? That's one of the best performances I've ever seen." 

The knot between his eyebrows returned, "Of course it was. And don't expect me to ever do that again. If you tell a soul about my ability to play the piano, I will hex you to oblivion,  _ Mudblood _ ." 

She sighed for the thousandth time tonight. He almost made it through the day without using the derogatory term on her. “I won’t. The Gryffindor paused when he looked unconvinced. Though she thought Malfoy deserved none of her kindness and fidelity, Hermione made a crossing motion across her heart. “I promise.”

“You better,” he spat, taking long strides to the exit. When he opened the door, Malfoy stopped abruptly in his tracks. Furrowing her eyebrows, Hermione stepped around him.

“Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy,” said McGonagall, her stance indicated she was just passing by when Malfoy opened the door. Idiot. The professor seemed more surprised to see the two together than seeing two students break the rules. “What are you doing in there?” 

She looked at Malfoy then back to Hermione. “Run along, Miss Granger. Let me have a talk with Draco.” 

“Professor-” she heard the boy behind her begin to protest. 

She interrupted him, “Malfoy didn’t do anything wrong, I was in here earlier and he happened to catch me. If you want to punish someone, I’d be the one to blame.”

McGonagall looked at her with a strange expression, “Very well, I must say I’m quite disappointed. I’ll let you off this time, but just this once only. Don’t let me catch you again, rules are rules for a reason, Miss Granger.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she said calmly, though the speed of her heartbeats told a different story. “Don’t worry, this won’t happen again.”

The older witch nodded once then continued down the hallway. Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her shoulders relaxing immediately. She spun around to face Malfoy. “You’re welcome.” 

He scoffed and pushed past her, “Don’t expect me to thank you, you got us into this fucking situation.”

“I assure you, I wasn’t expecting it,” she snorted, following him. Draco Malfoy thanking someone? It was hard to picture even in a different reality. Hermione pulled her journal out of her bag and looked at the next question. “Oh, this is a fun one.”

He glanced at her and immediately threw his head back in frustration, “When are you not working?”

“What is your favourite seasonal activity?” she said anyway. 

He let out a dry laugh, “Easy. Frolicking in flower fields in the spring brings me the most absolute joy and nothing will ever compare to it.”

“That’s lovely, Malfoy. It will do nicely in my presentation too,” Hermione replied, pretending to write his sarcastic answer in her journal. The blond narrowed his eyes at her, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Too late,” she looked up and grinned, earning an eye roll from him. “Meet me tomorrow afternoon in the courtyard. I think it would be better if I showed you my answer.” 

She split from him and turned a corner that would lead her to the Gryffindor Common Room. 

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, Granger!” she heard Malfoy call after her. His voice echoed through the hallway. “You’re mad if you think I’m spending my weekend with you.”

The witch kept walking as she yelled back to him, “It’s your grade, Malfoy. If you want my answer, show up. If you don’t, then so be it. Have a good evening!” 

⚯͛

Hermione was rocking back and forth on her heels when Draco found her. She was watching the snowfall outside, which he thought was very typical of her. The deranged Gryffindor was always so caught up in the simple beauties of life. His eyes drifted down to a large wooden object she was holding, it looked like a... sled? She must've heard him approaching because her head turned in his direction. A wide smile made its way across her face.

“I didn’t think you’d come." Hermione grinned, readjusting her stance.

Draco scowled, pulling at the green-striped scarf around his neck. He looked around them to make sure no one he knew saw the two together, "You threatened me. What are we doing?"

The Gryffindor led him outside, the snow was still coming down in gentle, calm waves. She looked back at him, a puff of condensation left her lips, "Sledding."

When he stared back at her, Hermione’s lips parted in amusement, and her left eyebrow arched.

"Don't tell me Draco Malfoy has never been sledding." 

Draco blinked, stuffing his cold hands into his pockets, "As a matter of fact, I have been sledding. I love sledding. Sledding is my favorite thing to do in the winter. I would sled every season if I could." 

Hermione rolled her eyes as they trudged up a small hill. He was clearly lying. After spending so many hours with him, she'd discovered that the Slytherin would always get this little wrinkle on the bridge of his nose when he told a fib. Other than the fact that his voice was terribly thick with sarcasm.

"You'll love it, Malfoy," she smiled. "Not all Muggle activities are terrible." 

"That's where you're wrong, Granger." 

The two came to a stop on top of the hill, and Hermione set down her wooden sled, creating a flurry of white powder around it. Draco wondered where she could've possibly gotten the toboggan from. 

He pressed his lips into a thin line, " _ This _ is your favorite activity?" 

"Yes, my parents and I go sledding every winter." she responded, turning her head to look at him. She patted the spot behind her. "Now sit Malfoy, before I force you to." 

Draco let out a dry laugh and looked around in astonishment, "In your bloody dreams. I'm not getting on a stupid sled with  _ you _ ." 

The witch raised an eyebrow, "Well, you're going to get your arse on this  _ stupid _ sled, or I'm going to ruin our project again." 

He froze, "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Draco groaned in frustration and took a few steps forward to seat himself on the sled. They were way too close for comfort. He could smell her freshly shampooed hair and the remnants of candle smoke. And not to mention, she was a Mudblood. If it weren’t for her threat, he would’ve been back in the warmth of the Slytherin Common Room already. Bloody wanker.

Hermione grinned, oblivious to his clear discomfort, "Excellent choice." 

She used the heels of her feet to drag them forward and the sled began to move downwards at an incredible speed. The cold wind blew against his face, and though it stung, Draco found himself enjoying the ride. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and his heart hammered in excitement. In front of him, Hermione was laughing gleefully, she pulled on the rope she was holding, steering the sled in various directions. 

"Are you enjoying yourself back there, Malfoy?" she screamed against the whizzing wind. She let out another hearty laugh as a handful of snow flew up, Hermione quickly moved to avoid it from hitting her, but Draco's reflexes were not as swift as her's. His face was instantly met with the freezing cold powder. He was no longer enjoying the ride.

_ "Stop the sled, Granger! _ " he yelled back, wiping the snow off his face. He could feel the cold seeping through his clothes. The blonde-haired boy reached his leg out, hoping to stop the sled so he could clear his now freezing skin of the slush. He regretted it as soon as he did it. The sled began to spin, and the next thing he knew, he was no longer on the sled but being thrown off. 

He groaned as he made an impact with the snow. It was definitely not as soft as it looked. Draco opened his eyes to see Granger hovering over him, her arms on either side of his body. He froze. All he could do was stare back at her. Her curly brown hair was damp, and the tip of her nose was red from the cold. There were little flickers of gold in her chocolate-brown eyes that Draco had never noticed before. She certainly didn't look dirty right now- 

No. 

What was he thinking?

The Slytherin’s face twisted in disgust. He brought his arms up in an instant and shoved Hermione off of him, "Get the fuck off of me, filthy Mudblood!"

He stood up once she was off him. He cast a quick anxious glance around him, letting out a breath of relief when he realized they were alone. Thank Salazar, no one saw them. Draco looked back at Hermione who was still curled up on the snow. Her face was buried in the crook of her arms and he could make out low groaning sounds coming from her.

His eyes flickered down to a rock next to her and then down to the snow. There were dark red stains, he thought it might've been blood but he wasn't sure. He'd never seen a Mudblood's blood before.

"Granger, get up, what is wrong with you?" he said cautiously, narrowing his eyes at the girl. Surely, she hadn't been hurt. When Hermione stayed in her fetal position, Draco let out a frustrated grumble and moved towards her. She was unusually still and quiet now. 

"Granger?" he repeated her name, kicked her slightly to invoke a response, but she remained static. He felt his heartbeat increase as he kneeled down and flipped the Gryffindor over. Her eyes were closed in pain and across her forehead was a deep red gash. She was bleeding. He tried shaking her, "Granger, this isn't funny. Get up." 

She remained still. His breaths came out in white puffs of condensation as he hurried to reach for his wand. 

"Bloody hell," he cursed, removing his gloves when he couldn't get a firm grip on it. Draco pressed his fingertips to the edges of her gash, examining the injury as he ran his wand down it, muttering a simple healing spell. Her tan skin began to repair itself until only a scar remained, and Draco wondered why he even bothered to help her. She certainly didn't deserve it.

He looked at the tips of his fingers now stained with her blood. It was red, sticky, and stunk of metal. Just like his own. He furrowed his eyebrows, staring at it. Draco had never been more confused in his entire life, he felt drunk. All his life, he'd believed that Muggle-borns had dirty blood, but it wasn't. She was just like him. They were just like him. He struggled to wrap his mind around what was in front of him, there had to be another explanation. There had to.

Hermione began to stir and Draco grabbed a fistful of snow, cleaning his fingers of her blood before standing up. He stared down at the girl as her eyes flickered open, his world still felt as if it were upside down. 

"This is your favorite activity, Granger? Near-death experiences?" Draco raised an eyebrow when she came to.

"You're a pain in the arse, Malfoy," she groaned, pushing herself off the ground. "You're going to end up killing me one day." 

The corner of his lips twisted into a scowl, "You should thank me for saving your life."

Hermione let out a sarcastic laugh as she began to walk down the hill, "I hardly think I would've died. Besides, it was your fault I hit that rock." 

The Slytherin scoffed, stuffing his cold hands into his pockets. The tips of them felt like they were going to fall off. "It was your fault for forcing me to go on the fucking sled with you. That death ride is far from fun."

"Fine," she shrugged as they entered the school. "If that answer doesn't please you, then maybe this will. Follow me."

"Did you not notice what happened the last time I did-"

Hermione cut him off, "Shut it and just follow me, Malfoy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow, it's been barely 24 hours since I uploaded the first chapter at I'm at 200+ hits already. Thank you so much! It may not be an extraordinary feat, but I still appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this part just as much. Also, Happy New Year everyone! I hope 2021 will be much better than the mess that was 2020. Stay safe and enjoy the rest of your holidays! 💗


	3. The Game

Draco exhaled loudly, his lips felt dry from being out in the cold for so long. All he wanted was a warm shower, not get dragged around the entire school by Granger. He could still feel the ghost of her blood on his fingers and his head was heavy with thoughts. He desperately needed some alone time to think clearly.

"I just want to be warm, Granger. I don't need you to lead me to another mess," he grumbled, unraveling his scarf. He went to pull off his gloves but realized he'd left them lying in the snow. Draco made a mental note to owl his parents and ask them to mail him new ones.

"Trust me, it'll be worthwhile, Malfoy," she said in an assuring tone. He scoffed, walking in the direction of the Slytherin Common Room, "I _don't_ trust you. I'll pass."

"You owe me for putting that gash on my forehead."

He stopped walking and turned to glare at her, "Yeah, I couldn't care less. Go bother the death magnets."

Hermione frowned, watching as Malfoy disappeared down the hall. She brought her hand to her forehead, her fingers gingerly brushing over her new scar. He’d healed her and she had no clue why. She came to the conclusion that he’d done it to save his own arse –– if they’d discovered her frozen body the next morning, things would not play out in Malfoy’s favor. He surely did it out of selfish intentions, that _had_ to be the reason. Spinning on her heels, Hermione headed toward the kitchens. She desperately needed a steaming cup of hot chocolate to warm her shivering body.

⚯͛

_Thank you, Malfoy._

_\- H_

Draco studied the small rectangular piece of paper with knitted eyebrows. Minutes before, there was a knock on the Slytherin Common Room door, and when he answered, a mug with steaming brown liquid inside sat on the floor. A note was slipped underneath the grotesque maroon cup. Clearly, it was meant for him.

He leaned out the door and looked to his right, then to his left, but he was only met with the heavy darkness. He drew himself back into the warmth of his Common Room, several pairs of prying eyes glued on him and his every movement.

“What have you got there, mate?” Theo asked curiously.

Draco took a sip of the mysterious drink. The warm elixir tasted like chocolate, it was delicious. After he’d taken another sip -– this time a longer one ––, he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe. “Is this another one of your bloody pranks, Nott? Who’s H?”

The look of confusion on his friend’s face gave the blond the answer he needed. “Nevermind,” he shook his head quickly, shoving the note into his pocket. “I’ll see you all tomorrow morning.”

Retreating to the dorms, Draco placed the mug on his nightstand and analyzed the note again. H… Could it be from Granger? The sickening color of the cup indicated it was undoubtedly from Gryffindor. Mumbling a curse word, he crumpled the small piece of paper into a ball, tossing it across the room. It rolled across the carpet before coming to a stop under Zabini’s bed. Fucking Mudblood, he didn’t need anything from her.

 _Mudblood_.

That fucking term again, the events came rushing back to him like a turbulent wave crashing against rocks. He lifted himself onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Thank Salazar he was alone. His roommates were still in the Common Room, he could hear their laughter from up here. 

Mudblood. Dirty-blood. Impure. 

The young wizard placed his hand on his forehead, brushing the fringes of his blonde locks backward. He’d drawn and seen the stupid git’s blood this afternoon; it looked identical to his. It had to have been a trick of the light, there was no other explanation for it. He closed his eyes and exhaled forcefully, even that answer wasn’t convincing. He felt his head spin and the feeling ran down his spine into his abdomen. His stomach lurched and suddenly, Draco felt sick –– _very sick_. He hopped off his bed and ran to the toilets, not stopping until he was kneeled over one, his head in the pristine porcelain bowl.

And then he vomited. The cursed brown drink and all.

⚯͛

“I don’t know what your problem is, Granger,” Malfoy said angrily. He’d barely even rounded the corner of the bookshelves to meet her and he was already yelling at her. “But I don’t need you to send me drinks in the middle of the night.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, she couldn’t help but noticed that he looked awfully pale –– well, more than usual –– and his eyes were sunken in. “Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”

“Yes, actually,” he snapped, he sat down aggressively next to her, as if that were even possible. “All thanks to you, hope you’re fucking proud of yourself.”

“What could have I possibly done, Malfoy?” Hermione searched her brain for answers. Her eyes widened in realization and she spun in her seat to face him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were lactose intolerant.”

His face twisted and he stared at her like she was something stuck to the bottom of his expensive leather shoes, “What are you going on about? I’m not fucking lactose intolerant.”

The witch’s mouth formed an o, then she pressed her lips into a thin line, “What the hell are _you_ going on about?”

Malfoy’s lips parted to speak but he snapped it close, “Let’s just get on with the assignment.” He shuffled in his seat and Hermione noticed a book slip out of his bag, landing on the floor with a thud. She reached down to pick it up but the wizard grabbed her arm, stopping her.

Draco widened his eyes at her and tightened his jaw, " _Drop it, Granger_."

"What?" she drew her eyebrows together. He was behaving rather strangely.

"I said, _drop it_ ," he hissed dangerously.

Hermione snatched her arm out from his grip and quickly scanned the title. She clicked her tongue, her eyebrows raising in amusement as she read it. "Romeo and Juliet."

He grabbed the book back and snarled at her, "Can't I get some sodding privacy?"

"I thought you hated Muggle literature," she said, doing everything in her power to suppress the growing smile on her face. Her mind flashed back to when she bumped into Draco on the train, he had insulted her for reading the play. She didn't know precisely why he was reading Romeo and Juliet now, but the thought of Draco Malfoy reading a love story was so out of character it was almost hilarious.

The Slytherin's face turned beet red with embarrassment. He shoved the book back onto his satchel harshly, causing Hermione to purse her lips. She didn't like to see books getting mistreated.

"I read it to prove a point," he said, returning his attention to the parchment in front of him. "And I was right, Granger, the story is bloody ridiculous."

"How so?" she inquired, cocking her head slightly to the side.

He slammed his quill down on the table and gave Hermione an ' _are you serious?_ ' look.

"The main characters are from two families that hate each other, and then they end up falling head over heels for each other in one day? That's like..." Draco paused as he thought about his answer for a second. He lifted his finger and waved it in between himself and Hermione.

"That's like if we fell in love," he finished. "We hate each other, it simply would never work."

She almost snorted at the idea of them falling in love –– she wouldn’t be with him even if her life depended on it. “The ending doesn't quite make sense to me either, but I guess that's what people do when they're in love."

"It wasn't love, Granger," he said as a matter of factly. "It was a short infatuation, or maybe even lust, but it wasn't fucking love. Just two stupid kids who made even more stupid choices."

"Do you think it's possible? For two people to fall in love so deeply that they'd sacrifice their life for each other?"

Draco shook his head and snickered, "No, love is just some chemical reaction our brains produce. It's all blasphemy, some insane idea we made up to make ourselves feel better about how awful life truly is."

"Although you and that weasel with red fur might think otherwise," he added, smirking.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Ron is just a friend."

"Oh please, Granger, everyone can see you two have the hots for each other except for you and Weaselbee."

"Bugger off, you're insane."

"Me? It's like you don't even look in the mirror," he tossed back, turning back to continue his work. "Although I wouldn't look in the mirror either if I looked like you."

Hermione bit her tongue and tried not to let his comment bother her. It's just Malfoy. She pulled her leather journal out of her bag and flipped to a blank page, "While we're on the topic, let's answer question 50. Do you believe love can change people?"

She heard a snort come from Draco's hunched back. He lifted his head, his eyes connecting with her own. "No, no, I don't think it does. Why would someone change their entire personality just because they want to shag someone... why are the fuck are you looking at me like that?"

"That's a pity," she shook her head slightly, wondering if she should be saying this at all. "What led you to believe love is just shagging and chemicals?"

The change in the Slytherin's disposition was so quick, Hermione would've missed it if she blinked. She bit her bottom lip back, regretting her actions already.

"You pity me?" he laughed dryly, half in disbelief and half in anger. He stood abruptly, startling the young witch a little. Draco began gathering his belongings, his jaw visibly tightened. "Am I a fucking game to you? A little bit of entertainment? Someone you can dissect when you’re bored? Wow! How in the bloody hell did Malfoy become the way he is?

She stood to meet his height. He was being absurd. "That’s not what I meant-–"

"Save it," he snapped, now facing her. His eyes are blazing with so much rage it almost made Hermione gasp. "You want to play around, Granger?” The corners of his lips twisted up, "Well then, _game on_."

Draco pushed past her, making sure to bump into her shoulder as hard as he could when he did. A sharp pain shot up her arm, but she ignored it, spinning around to try and apologize again.

"Malfoy-" she began, whipping around to face him.

But the boy was already gone.

⚯͛

Hermione picked at the perfectly tied ribbon as she waited for Draco to show up at the library. She had gotten him a gift to make up for what she said yesterday evening, but she wasn't sure if he'd like the present. The Gryffindor spent the remainder of the night pondering what he meant by ‘ _game o_ n’, his tone was menacing and spine-chilling. She shrugged it off as one of his many empty threats –– though still, something tugged at her gut.

She heard the shuffling of his familiar footsteps approaching and stood immediately, her hand reached for the gift she had prepared.

When Draco turned the corner, he stopped in his tracks. His left eyebrow rose into a curious arch as he stared at her.

"Granger," he said in acknowledgment. He made to move past her but Hermione stepped in his way.

"What are you doing?" he groaned.

"I just wanted to apologize for yesterday," the Gryffindor said, holding out the present in her hand. His eyes darted down to her hand and then back up to her face and then back down to her outstretched hand again, "I don't want your bloody present."

"Just take it," she lifted her hand higher. "Please."

His lips curled in distaste as he took the perfectly wrapped gift from her gingerly. He pulled on one end of the ribbon, unraveling it before tearing away at the shiny wrapping paper. It was a book. He should've seen this one coming.

"Your idea of an apology is to get me another fucking book by Shitspeare?"

Hermione frowned at his newly crafted nickname for the author. She pointed at the title name.

"Hamlet."

"Yes, I'm not bloody illiterate Granger, get to the point, yeah?"

"I just thought you might enjoy this story a little more. After all, Romeo and Juliet was what started that whole..." she paused and licked her lips before continuing, "debacle yesterday. I figured I could make it up with a better play."

Draco flipped the book around in his hands, examining it with skepticism.

"They all die in the end," she quipped, smiling awkwardly as she studied his expression. "Perhaps you'd find it a little more realistic."

And there it was. Just the slightest tug on the corner of his lips, barely forming a quarter-smile. It disappeared as quickly as it came and he looked up, unimpressed. "I don’t forgive you, but thank you for this book. It will do good to keep the fire going in the Slytherin Common Room," Malfoy said, sliding the book into, his bag.

Hermione began to protest but figured it was better to stay quiet than to escalate tensions any further. She coughed twice, flipping her journal open to a blank page. She frowned when she saw the next question on the list. Licking her lips nervously, her eyes flickered to Malfoy briefly before they returned to the empty page in front of her.

“What’s your biggest fear?” she said with a grimace when she’d finished her sentence.

Through the corner of her eyes, the witch saw him throw his head back. “This assignment is fucking stupid.”

“I could answer first,” she offered. Showing each other their vulnerabilities was something she certainly had never planned on doing, but here they were. “Mine’s losing the people I love and not being enough.”

“Not enough?” Malfoy’s eyebrow arched curiously.

She shook her head, not wanting to explain, “What’s your worst fear?”

It took him a few short moments to respond and when he did, the Slytherin’s voice was low, “Failure.”

Hermione decided not to press further. She scribbled his answer across the page with her quill and lifted her head to read the next question that would breach their privacy yet again. She sighed, brushing her fingers through her hair, “What is something you’ve always wanted to do, but have always been too scared to?”

A smirk grew on his lips and he leaned towards the Gryffindor. His fingers traced the contour of her jawline. Hermione’s breath hitched in her throat and she froze, she felt heat flush her cheeks.

“What are you doing, Malfoy?” she gulped, staring at him with wide eyes. His familiar scent of pine trees and green apples flooded her nose. His smirk widened and she swore she saw a mischievous glint flash through his eyes, “I’m answering the question.”

The Slytherin drew his lips closer to her’s until he was only a few mere centimeters away. Hermione wanted to move but her bones betrayed her and she stayed right where she was. Then right as she thought their lips were going to meet, he pulled away.

He flashed a smug smile, “Your move, Granger.”

“W-What the hell?” she sputtered, suddenly able to move again. “Are you mad!?”

“Malfoy, are you here?” Pansy’s voice said from behind the shelves. She poked her head around the corner and made eye contact with Hermione. Her pupils traveled to the Gryffindor’s warm cheeks and her awfully close distance to Malfoy. “I need your help with a Potions assignment, but you seem occupied so I can find you later.”

“Parkinson, this is not what––” Hermione began.

“No, we’re just finishing up here,” Draco interrupted, standing as he gathered his things. The Slytherin girl nodded and walked away, leaving the two alone again. Malfoy cast her one last look. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a game, Granger.”

⚯͛

"You've been spending an awful amount of time with Malfoy," Ron said as he munched on a slice of bread he slathered with butter. "How has it been?"

Hermione dropped two sugar cubes into her morning tea and followed it with a splash of milk. She shrugged. "He's as terrible as he seems."

"That’s no surprise," Ginny folded her arms on the table. "Has he done anything we should know about?"

The memory of last night flashed through her head and she cringed internally. She prayed the blush on her face wasn’t visible, "Nothing I can’t handle yet, I’ll let you know if he crosses a line though."

“Please do, that boy is asking to be beaten up one day and I need a reason to do so,” the youngest Weasley huffed.

Hermione looked behind her shoulder at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was laughing about something with Blaise. Pansy slapped the back of his head, causing the two boys to double over in laughter even more. His eyes drifted to meet hers and the witch turned around immediately, her heartbeat quickening. She took a long sip of her tea and slammed the cup down a little too harshly. Bits of the brown liquid sloshed out the sides and onto the wooden table. Fuck.

"What was that?" Harry looked at her curiously then over at Malfoy who was now fixing himself a cup of tea as well. Two sugars and a splash of milk.

Hermione wiped the tea stains off with a napkin she grabbed from a nearby holder, "What was what?"

"You just slammed your tea onto the table."

"It was an accident." she wasn't sure how to answer the question, truth be told.

He crossed his arms on the table, leaning forward a little. "And your face is flushed. Did something happen between you two?"

"Are you going to eat that?" Ron interrupted, pointing at the untouched bacon on her plate. Clearly unaware of the current conversation. Praise your soul, Ronald Weasley.

Hermione shook her head, pushing her plate to the boy, "Here, I'm not hungry."

His eyes widened in amazement, "Cheers, mate!"

She chuckled, "Anytime."

"Why the bloody hell do you eat so much?" Ginny twisted her face in disgust, staring at her brother with astonishment.

Ron shoved a piece of the sunny-side-up egg into his mouth, a dribble of yellow yolk slid down his chin. Hermione cringed.

"Did mum not teach you manners?" Ginny scolded, leaning across the table to flick his forehead. A sound of protest escaped his lips and he wiped away the yolk with the back of his hand.

"Is this how you treat your older brother?" Ron complained. He looked at Fred and George. "Guys, a little help?"

"She's right," Fred grinned.

George nodded in agreement, "You're a bloody mess."

Besides him, Harry threw his arm around Ron's shoulder and twisted his knuckles into his red hair, "Don't worry mate, I still appreciate you."

Ron grumbled something incoherent and the laughs that erupted from the Gryffindor table could be heard all the way across the Great Hall where a Slytherin boy watched from the corner of his grey eyes.

After practice with Dumbledore's Army, Hermione cast a glamour spell to hide away her sweaty appearance before meeting with Draco. She felt exhausted from trying to conjure her Patronus for the last couple of hours, it was a lot harder than Harry made it out to be.

"You look like shit," was the first thing he said to her. "Also you're late... again."

Hermione rolled her eyes and slumped into her chair, her bones were aching. "Thanks, Malfoy, I appreciate it."

Her eyes darted down to the medal pinned to his green robes, it had not been there before.

"What's that?" she pointed at his chest.

Draco smirked and held his chin up so high and full of pride, Hermione thought he would lose his balance and fall on his arse if he tilted it any further, she wouldn't be against seeing that.

"Inquisitorial Squad," he said arrogantly, showing off the badge. "You and your little group of Gryffindors better watch yourselves, Umbridge thinks you're up to something and I'm going to find out."

Hermione smiled awkwardly. She had to give props to Umbridge for trying so hard and desperately to find and dismantle Dumbledore's Army, it was incredibly stupid. The Ministry was too focused on finding the wrong enemy.

"That's great, Malfoy," she forced out, her eyes darted to the side. "I am so happy for you."

He nodded once, clearly unaware of her dry tone, "Glad you agree. So are you going to explain why you're late all the time?"

The witch let out a snicker. As if. He'd rat them out to Umbridge faster than she could say Godric. “Nothing, I just like to do some of my hobbies at the edge of the Forbidden Forest every night after studies.”’

Draco looked at her with a confused expression. Who would bloody choose to stay at the borders of the Forest at night? Bloody Gryffindors and their reckless courage. He was determined to find out more, “You’re not allowed there after sundown.”

“Oh, I know,” she responded nonchalantly. “Which is why I trust you won’t tell anyone, especially not your little squad.”

_He was definitely going to tell the Inquisitorial Squad._

⚯͛ _  
_

The next day, right before dinner at the Great Hall, Draco and a few members eagerly left the main grounds of Hogwarts and towards the Forbidden Forest. The students relied on the small glow on the tip of their wands to lead them to the spot the Gryffindor had claimed to be. Granger had given him an early Christmas gift, wrapped and topped with a ribbon. He was going to catch her and earn Slytherins 50 house points. “We have you now, Granger!” Draco called out to the darkness when they’d reached the edge of the forest. The small group was met with his echoes and the caw of a nearby crow.

Millicent Bulstrode turned to him, “Are you positive she said the Forbidden Forest?”

“Yes,” he replied with an annoyed tone, “stop questioning me and get on with searching for her. She has to be around here somewhere.”

“Malfoy! Look here!” Crabbe’s beckoned for the blond to come. He was staring at an unusually large rock. Draco jogged across the wet grass to the boy, and looked down. He brought his wand closer to the rock. In Gryffindor red, large bold words taunted him.

**_YOUR MOVE, MALFOY._ **

“Students!” a voice thick with a Scottish accent said behind them. Draco turned around to see McGonagall emerging from the evening fog, her wand gripped tightly in her hand. “Detention, all of you! You know you shouldn’t be here right now.”

The younger wizard spun around pointing to the rock, “But look, Professor.”

McGonagall frowned. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

He turned back to the rock and the words that were there just a few seconds ago had vanished. He was pointing at a rock, Draco felt humiliated. 

“Nevermind,” he grumbled, following the professor back towards the school. He’d get the Gryffindor back one way or another. Sodding cow. He was going to make sure she never sees it coming.

⚯͛

With the distraction of Dumbledore's Army and meetings with Malfoy, Hermione's days went by in a snap. She was sitting in her last class of the day now, and after this, Hogwarts would be dismissed for the holidays.

Draco was giving his presentation on her right now. He had made more than five rude comments about her already, like how he found that it was and Hermione quotes, "bloody ridiculous her favorite color is ultraviolet." She tuned out sometime after that, picking at the corner of her leather journal. If he was going to embarrass her, she'd rather not hear what he'd had to say.

"Hermione Granger, come on up, darling," Umbridge's squeaky voice announced. "Quickly, we don't have all day."

The young witch grabbed her journal, passing Draco on her way to the front of the class.

"Keep it sweet and simple, Granger." he hissed, brushing past her.

Hermione stopped in front of the class and licked her lips nervously. She smiled at the twenty classmates whose eyes were glued on her. Clearing her throat, Hermione opened the journal in her hand to the first page.

"I could tell you a lot of things about Draco Malfoy," she began, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. "Like his favorite colour is green, not the bright shades that look like elf vomit."

A gentle wave of quiet laughs washed over the classroom. She waited until they quieted down before continuing.

"But the shade of emerald. And I could tell you his favorite food is the shepherd's pie his mum used to make him when he was five years old."

Her eyes flickered to him. He was watching her with such strong intensity, she almost lost her train of thought.

"However, those facts seem insignificant compared to the most important thing I discovered about him. The truth is, Draco Malfoy is misunderstood."

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like where this was going, why couldn't she just stick to the simple facts. He could feel people casting quick glances at him, he wished they would just mind their own business. Hell, he wished Granger would just mind her own business. She had apparently chosen to ignore his warning to keep it simple.

"He's just a boy who finds peace in the salty summer air and has shown me vulnerability more times than once, for example, he told me-"

A loud bark interrupted Hermione. She gave the classroom a quick scan, had someone brought in a dog? Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to speak again but the barks cut her off again. This time, she knew where it was coming from, herself.

Hermione yelped, covering her mouth in horror. This could not be happening right now. Laughter erupted from the class and she stood, frozen in embarrassment. Her eyes flew to Draco who was clearly muttering the incantation that had made her bark whenever she tried to talk.

"Spoken like a true bitch, yeah Granger?" he snarled, inciting another round of hysterics from the class. Hermione felt her face redden from a mix of mortification and infuriation. She balled her fists into a tight grasp at her sides, her fingernails carving crescent-shaped moons into the palm of her hands. She looked at Umbridge next, wondering if she was still expected to continue on with the presentation. The professor sighed and made a waving motion with her hand.

"Class dismissed. Make sure to hand in your papers before you leave and have a wonderful holiday!"

The class had cleared out before Hermione was able to move again. She unclenched her hand, not caring that she had drawn blood. 

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Harry asked, approaching her with Ron. "Did Malfoy spell you?"

She nodded, remaining silent, she wasn't sure if she was able to talk properly yet and she did not want to risk barking like a mad dog again. She stuffed her belongings into her satchel with frustration.

"We'll find a counterspell," Ron said, doing everything he could to help. "Don't worry."

If she could laugh, Hermione would've already. She knew Harry and Ron were not the best at spells, it would take them at least a few days.

"Granger," Draco's voice said from behind them. Hermione spun around, ready to punch him square in the face and wipe that smug look off his face but Ron's hands wrapped around her wrist before she could even lift it.

He gave her a look and she huffed, settling to cross her arms over her chest instead.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," Harry stepped protectively in front of Hermione. "Don't you think you've done enough?"

Draco glanced at Harry cooly, angering Hermione even more. How could he have the nerve to approach her and her friends so nonchalantly right now?

"Can I get some bloody privacy with her or are all three of you conjoined at the hips?"

Ron snorted, "Have you gone mental, mate? We're not leaving her alone with you."

Hermione placed her hand on Ron's shoulder, signaling that it was okay to leave her with him. Besides, if they'd stayed, Ron would hold her back from punching him again.

"Alright, we'll be waiting at the courtyard," he said, giving Draco a wary look. "If you do anything else to her, I'll mess you up, Malfoy."

Her best friends left her alone in the room with the Slytherin and Godric knows where Umbridge had disappeared to.

"You brought this on yourself, Granger," he said once he was sure the boys were out of earshot. "You sold me off to McGonagall and tricked me."

Hermione pointed to her mouth angrily. He rolled his eyes and muttered another spell.

"You were the one who started the bloody game!" she countered, relieved she could speak again. "Grow up! Are you still stuck in the first year? I simply retaliated!"

"And so did I. It was your fault you decided to start spewing bullshit," he growled, grinding his teeth together. "I'm misunderstood? What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? It doesn't even make any bloody sense!"

The witch threw her hands up, "And that gives you the right to start making me bark like a dog?"

"It only seemed fitting given the fact that you're a bitc-"

Hermione cut him off with a hard slap. The palm of her hand stung with pain from the impact and the indentations she had given herself a few moments earlier. Draco moved his hand to the now reddening area where she'd hit him, his mouth dropped open in shock. A small spot of her blood smudged across his face.

"No, you're actually right." she let out a hysteric laugh. "What I said _doesn't_ make any sense. I'm sorry I even considered giving you a nice presentation. Sleep with one eye open, Malfoy."

She shoved past him and made a beeline for the Gryffindor dorms. Hermione muttered a series of curse words under her breath. She felt like an idiot. She knew she was smarter than this, kindness isn’t always rewarded. The Gryffindor scoffed, she had spent her own personal money on buying a bloody book for him. Swallowing a growing lump in her throat, Hermione shoved her angry thoughts to the back of her mind. Despite her words, she didn’t plan to take revenge and sink to the brat’s level.

Besides, keeping Malfoy on edge and on his toes would be _just. as. sweet_. 


	4. The Party

Draco was still holding his cheek when Hermione disappeared out of view. He took his hand off his stinging face, there were spots of blood on it.

_Did she somehow manage to draw blood?_

He grazed his fingers over his skin, there were no cuts. It was her blood. He rubbed his crimson-stained digits together, a sharp pain shot through his temple, forming a pounding headache. Again, her plasma looked just like his own.

"Fuck," he muttered, casting a spell to rid the stains. He had crossed a line. But then again, who gave her the fucking right to start rambling about him like that?

Misunderstood?

What the fuck was that even supposed to mean? He groaned in frustration, marching out of the classroom in long steps. The Gryffindor was meddling with his head, ever since that sledding incident, all his thoughts had been muddled into something incomprehensible, he hated it. _Nothing_ was clear to him and he despised it.

Draco arrived in the Slytherin Common Room minutes later, his friends were seated on the green couches. They were laughing about something in front of the fireplace. He hoped they hadn't noticed him, he just wanted to grab his trunk and return home without disruption.

"Malfoy," Pansy's voice called out. Draco almost groaned. "That prank you pulled on the Mudblood was brilliant."

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her, "That word, what does it mean?"

"Mudblood?" Pansy echoed, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. She looked at Blaise, then Theo, both of them just as confused as her. "What do you mean-"

“JUST TELL ME GODDAMN IT.”

The witch flinched at her friend's loud volume, “They’re Muggle-borns, they have dirty blood, they’re impure. Mudblood’s taint the wizarding world, they don’t deserve their magic.”

Draco tightened his jaw, he closed the distance between him and the girl with two strides, "But that’s not true, tell me the bloody truth, Parkinson."

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him, "What _truth_? I’m not lying!"

His wand was on her instantly, Draco didn't remember drawing it, “If all of you are messing with me-”

"Woah there, mate," Theo stood up from the couch, he placed his hand on Draco's arm cautiously. "Calm down."

His eyes flickered to Theo and then he lowered his arm. It was then he realized everyone in the room was watching his capricious outburst. He snarled at them and spun on his heel towards the dorms. He threw the door to the shared bedroom open harshly before slamming it behind him. The Slytherin was glad he was alone. He had no idea why he was so furious. Salazar, he was so fucking confused. If his thoughts could just be bloody coherent for once and-

"FUCK," he roared, throwing one of his dormmate's potted plants across the room. He was breathing heavily now, he'd never been so frustrated before. He watched the dirt from the now shattered clay pot tumble out onto the carpeted floor. The house-elves would have to clean that later. Draco changed out of his dark green robes and back into his black suit, he grabbed his trunk and stormed out of the Slytherin Common Room, ignoring the voices of his friends who were trying to get his attention.

He was finally going home, perhaps the break will bring him his much-needed peace of mind.

⚯͛

The courtyard was bustling with activity when Hermione arrived. Students were scattered across, striking up final conversations with their friends before they returned home for the holidays. The interaction with Malfoy already shoved to the furthest crevice of her mind. She felt a surge of excitement rise up her chest and form a smile on her face, there'd be no saying goodbyes for her today. Ron had invited Hermione and Harry to stay at his house.

She spotted her friends talking on the other end of the courtyard and began to make her way to them. Settling her trunk down on the cobblestone, she placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, gaining his attention. His eyes sparkled when he turned to face her and his famous smile grew.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, happy to see his best friend in one piece. "How'd it go with Malfoy?"

"I simply told him off," She smiled gently at him before raising her eyebrows with concern, "Any updates on how your father is doing?"

Arthur Weasley had been attacked by a snake a few nights ago while working a nightshift at the Ministry. Harry had gotten a vision, saving Mr. Weasley's life by a matter of minutes, but something about the attack troubled Harry. He wouldn't say what was bothering him though. Hermione could feel her best friend slipping away with each passing day, she knew he was going through an ungodly amount of stress, but every time she tried to help, he'd just pull away.

Ron's smiled faded and his eyes darted towards the floor, "Mum says he's doing better now but I need to see it for myself."

He returned his gaze to Hermione, she could make out worry forming in his eyes. Hermione rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, "Your dad's one of the strongest people I know Ron, he'll be fine. I promise."

Her friend seemed to relax instantly, his old smile returning to his lips, "Well, what are we waiting for then?"

He turned to pull Harry away from a conversation with Cho, receiving a glare from the boy.

"Let's go home!"

When they arrived at the Burrow, the group was met with Molly Weasley's squeals of excitement and warm hugs. She was beyond ecstatic to see all her children again. She planted a fat kiss on Ron's forehead before holding her arms out to Hermione and Harry.

"Hello children!" she exclaimed happily, enveloping the two. "I hope you had a pleasant ride here."

Hermione smiled, pulling away from the older woman who smelled of nutmeg and spices, "Yes we did, Mrs. Weasley, thank you for letting us stay this holiday."

She scrunched her nose up and made a waving motion, "Oh, don't worry about it sweet child, we have more than enough room here. Now come come, it's getting cold out here, let's warm you up."

Everyone followed as the older witch entered the house.

"Sorry about that," Ron grimaced, appearing next to Hermione and Harry. "She can be a bit much sometimes. I'll lead you to your room and you can freshen up. Harry can bunk with me."

He began sprinting up a set of stairs, Harry on his tails. Hermione quickly deduced that he knew the place just as well as the Weasley's, he'd been here a couple of times before,

"Oi, Ron!" Harry called after him, brushing past the ginger on the stairs. "I call the bigger bed!"

The young witch watched in amusement as she followed them in a much calmer manner. When she arrived on the second floor, she could hear scrambling and the sound of two teenage boys fighting over a bed. A few seconds later, Ron stuck his head out the door on her left and grinned.

"Your room is right here," he said, walking out to lead her to a room right across from his own. He opened the door to reveal a small, quaint room. It was smaller than her room back home but she found it cozy and there was more than enough space. She walked over to the bed and grazed her fingers over the blanket.

"Mum made those," Ron explained. He was leaning against the doorframe. "Sorry, it's not much."

Hermione shook her head, continuing to admire the stitching. "No, this is lovely Ron, your mum is truly marvelous."

She heard the boy breathe a sigh of relief before further entering the room. He sat down on the mattress, his eyes glazing over as he stared ahead. He focused on one spot of the wall and his lighthearted expression fell.

"This peace isn't going to last, is it?" Ron muttered under his breath. It was so quiet Hermione almost didn't catch it. She opened her mouth to respond but was cut off when Harry came in too.

"No," he responded. He sat down on the floor and propped his knees up, resting his arms on them. Hermione gave him a small smile, she was glad to see Harry relax for once and join the two.

Ron laughed dryly, "Soon, we'll have more things to worry about than blankets and Potions class. Things are changing, I can feel it. Merlin, everyone can."

As if he suddenly realized something, the ginger's eyebrows went up. He tore his gaze from the spot on the wall and looked at both his closest friends, "We're always going to be together right? Even when things become unfamiliar and crazy?"

Hermione felt her chest tighten. She knew the meaning behind Ron's seemingly innocent words. Through all the chaos, she was astonished she hadn't even thought about that, lives were going to be lost in this war, it was inevitable. She stepped closer to the boys, settling in between Harry and Ron. Taking each of their hands in her own, Hermione smiled hopefully.

"Always."

⚯͛

Hermione was watching Ron stuff his face full of food again when Arthur Weasley spoke up. His face was still bandaged up and one of his two arms was in a sling.

"So the Ministry is holding a Christmas party," he said, using his functioning arm to fork a lump of mashed potatoes into his mouth. He finished chewing before continuing on. "Would you fellows like to come along?"

George and Fred high-fived across the table, the sound split through the air loudly.

"That sounds like fun," George said, cutting a piece of meat on his plate.

"Perhaps we can all bring a date," Fred suggested.

"Brilliant, Fred!" his twin exclaimed, his signature mischievous grin made its way across his face. "Ron can bring Hermione..."

"And Ginny can bring Harry," George finished for him, grinning from ear to ear.

Hermione's head snapped to face Ron who was sitting directly across from her. Did he still have feelings for her? She grimaced as an awkward feeling formed in her stomach. The youngest Weasley son's eyebrows furrowed, "Fred!"

"What's wrong, didn't you tell us you fancied Hermione?" George smirked, eyes flickering to the girl. She had to fight every muscle in her face not to cringe snd smiled, though it may have come out looking more uncomfortable than she’d hoped.

Ron's face was flushed in embarrassment as he turned to face his best friend, "Don't listen to George, he's being an idiot. I’d still love to go with you if you're okay with it."

Hermione nodded stiffly, "Sure, Ronald."

Molly nudged her daughter gently, "Well go on then Ginny, ask Harry."

"Mom," she hissed, shooting Mrs. Weasley a death glare. "Stop it!"

Beside her, Harry shuffled in his seat. He smiled, "Do you want to come to the party with me, Ginny?"

The young girl's eyes widened. Hermione laughed lightly to herself, it was apparent that she had a huge crush on Harry. She'd noticed when Ginny first arrived at Hogwarts, she couldn't stop making googly eyes at him.

"If you insist," she responded, trying to suppress a smile as she shrugged.

Mr. Weasley clapped his hand on the table and leaned forward, "Great! We can go to Diagon Alley tomorrow afternoon and everyone can pick out a little something for themselves to wear at the party."

Hermione did a little dance in her seat. She calculated with the money her parents had given her, she could buy herself a nice dress. She'd already gotten the Weasley family, plus Harry, Christmas gifts last month, so she didn't need to worry about that. Malfoy had teased her about it when she was late one day to their daily meetup, she'd been shopping in Hogsmeade and lost track of time. There was nothing wrong with planning ahead though, perhaps she was a little early, but she loved getting her loved one gifts. She was sure Draco only teased her because she hadn't got him a gift. The Slytherin could not hide his jealousy if his life depended on it.

She shook the memories of the blonde from her head. There was no reason she should be thinking about him right now. Absolutely none.

⚯͛

The pounding headache that seemed to ricochet against his temple still hadn’t left. Draco still felt dizzy with questions as he stood in front of a mirror, his mother pacing around him as she analyzed his outfit. They were alone in his room, his father on the other side of the Manor. If he wanted to get answers, he would have to do it now.

“Mother,” he said, finally finding the courage to speak up. He made eye contact with his reflection “Can I ask you something?”

Narcissa Malfoy hummed in response, a sign for him to go on. She pressed down some wrinkles on the suit.

“A few weeks ago, I got into an incident with Granger and she began to bleed. The problem is, her blood looked exactly like mine... like _ours_.”

His mother stopped moving, staring at her son with a cautious expression.

“You and Father have always told me that Muggle-borns had dirty blood, that it was impure. But I’ve seen her damn blood twice, Mother, and it-”

“ _Draco_ ,” Narcissa interrupted him, her eyes darted toward his door. There was a flicker of fear that flashed through them. “Not now.”

He let out a frustrated groan and turned to meet his mother’s eyes, “No, Mother. Granger’s blood wasn’t dirty. And I deny it, but she’s a bloody brilliant witch. She’s brighter than anyone our year, so she certainly deserves her magic. And if that's the case, what’s the fucking difference between her blood and mine?”

“Watch your language, Draco,” Narcissa scolded. She studied the young Slytherin’s desperate expression for a few seconds before bowing her head and sighing. She lifted her eyes back to meet her son’s.

Narcissa’s voice audibly dropped to a low whisper, “In your lifetime, you will come across many different types of people. No matter what they may look like, where they come from, or who they love, you must understand, we are all the same on the inside: just flesh and bone made to .”

“Then why have you told me otherwise my whole life?” his eyebrows drew together. It was struck him as odd that his mother was switching her beliefs now. All his life, he’s been told Purebloods were superior to the dirty Mudbloods, but she was telling him something entirely different. He had noticed her eyes kept flickering toward the door when she was speaking like she was scared they’d be caught. Draco scowled, “Is Father-”

“Are you two ready or are you doing to keep moving like snails?” the sound of Lucius’ cold, sharp voice cut him off. Narcissa patted down Draco’s suit one last time before turning to give her husband a small smile. “We’re ready.”

The older wizard narrowed his eyes at them, “What were you talking about?”

“Just Draco’s studies,” she said hurriedly. She made a waving motion at Draco, beckoning him to exit the room. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll be late for the Christmas party.”

“Very well,” Lucius narrowed his eyes, watching suspiciously as Narcissa exited the bedroom. He jabbed his scepter into Draco’s shoulder when the young wizard reached the door. “Behave yourself, Draco. Don’t even think about embarrassing me.”

The Slytherin boy fought the nerve to snarl as he nodded once, “Yes, Father.”

⚯͛

She hasn't felt this good about herself since the Yule Ball. Hermione had picked out a pastel pink dress that cut off right above her knees. The fabric felt like silk on her skin and the necklace she had on made her feel like royalty.

Hermione could hear the party already in full swing as she, Harry, and the rest of the Weasley family neared the entrance to the ballroom. They were an abnormally large group and probably looked silly but she didn't really care –– Hermione was too excited.

She cast a glance at her date. Ron had complimented her earlier this evening when he saw her in her dress. Granted, it was an awkward compliment (trademark of Ron Weasley's personality) but it was still a very sweet one.

Golden arches of light formed a path at the entrance, wreaths and vines adorned the walls. There was a giant Christmas tree in the center of the room that seemed to go up for miles, courtesy of a magical illusion Hermione presumed. The ceiling seemed to be enchanted as well, it appeared to be snowing but no snow actually fell on them. It reminded her of the one in the Great Hall. The smell of Christmas roast and pastries lingered in the air, was that gingerbread? She inhaled the smells, if she hadn't known magic existed, this party would've proved it to her.

"Wow," she exhaled, still taking in the beauty of the decorations.

"Well isn't this marvelous?" Molly exclaimed happily behind her. "Go on kids, have fun!"

Ginny and Harry brushed past her as they made their way to the activities section, Hermione heard the boy say something about making ornaments at the activity booth as they walked by.

She turned to Ron, "So what do you want to do?"

"I wonder what they've got over by the food table," he licked his lips, a shimmer of excitement appeared in the corner of his eye, although that could've just been the Christmas lights.

Hermione closed her eyes and groaned, "Oh for the love of Merlin, Ronald, we did not come to eat. Didn't you have enough at supper?"

"Hermione, there is no such thing as 'too much food'”, Ron said as a matter of factly. He paused then frowned. "But I can wait... I guess. What would you like to do first?"

She shook her head, the tone of his voice was so miserable it made her feel guilty somehow. "Alright, fine. Let's go see what they have."

It had almost been an hour when she started getting bored of watching Ron eat. She'd gotten a small slice of red velvet cake for herself but it was left half-eaten on her plate. Hermione wasn't sure if she should be impressed or repulsed by the ginger's ability to eat so much in such a short period of time. She glanced lazily around the room, wondering if there was an excuse she could use to leave Ron alone with his beloved plate. She would love to explore the party. Through the corner of her eye, Hermione saw a flash a platinum blonde hair in the crowd and her heart stopped beating in her chest. The air sucked itself out of the room, she needed to get out. She slumped down into her seat, praying the boy had not noticed her.

"Ron?" she said in a hushed tone.

He turned to her, his cheeks stuffed like a squirrel again.

"I'm going to go outside and get some air, I'll join you later."

The boy nodded and returned his attention back to his glazed ham and gingerbread men. Hermione slipped off the bench and headed toward the open doors that lead to the balcony. She was met with a blast of cold air and she drew in a greedy breath, relieved to escape the crowded and cramped room. She folded her arms on the balcony ledge, admiring the view laid out before her. The night sky was littered with stars and the moon was casting a lazy white blanket over Muggle London.

"It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

The scent of pine trees and green apples invaded her peace. Hermione scowled, turning to leave. She felt cold fingers wrap around her wrist, stopping her from moving any further.

"Wait, Granger."

She turned and twisted her wrist out of his grasp, "What could you possibly want from me? Are you looking to humiliate me in front of the Ministry too, you sick-"

Draco cut her off, "No, Granger. Just listen and stop rambling for once."

He gulped. Silence fell in between them as they stared at each other. For the first time in his life, Draco thought she looked somewhat striking. Her cheeks were flushed in anger and her brown curls were imperceptibly loosened by the wind. He shoved the forbidden thoughts to the furthest crevice of his mind and willed them to stay there.

"I went too far in Umbridge's class," he said, breaking the stillness. He licked his drying lips, his eyes darted to the floor. He wasn't sure why was saying all this, he saw her at the party and the next thing he knew, he was next to her. “The game was ridiculous. The truth is, I just wanted an excuse to mess with you."

Hermione snickered, “Thanks.”

“And that was ridiculously childish, so let’s just end it.” he finished. “I was just…”

Draco struggled to find the words to explain himself and when he couldn't, he huffed in frustration. He ran his fingers through his neatly combed hair and tugged on it, a habit he did whenever he felt defeated.

She sighed and found the words for him, "It's okay."

His eyes shot back up to meet Hermione's. She ran her tongue over her teeth and looked to the side before looking at him again, "It's fine, Malfoy. The fact you admit you were wrong is enough, you don't need to apologize. I understand."

“Right,” he nodded. “Don't expect an explanation from me.”

There was a long silence before she spoke again. She crossed her bare arms across her chest, it was beginning to feel a bit chilly. "Are you going to go or am I? What would people say if they saw Draco Malfoy alone on a balcony with a Mudblood girl?"

He furrowed his eyebrows tightly like he was in deep thought, “Can I ask you something, Granger?”

She nodded slowly, prompting him to go on.

"That day you hit the rock," he recalled, the memory of her unconscious body flashed through his head. "You were bleeding."

"Your blood was red, all my life I've been told Muggle-borns had dirty blood, but yours looked just like mine," Draco shook his head. Hermione could tell he was confused. "Your blood was exactly the same as mine. I don't know, _fuck_ , this is all so difficult. I talked to my Mother earlier this evening, and she told me we’re all the same, but she’s been telling me the opposite my entire life, and I just don’t know what to believe."

"I don’t know what your mum’s agenda is, but she’s right. The only difference between you and me is our parents, Malfoy. And you out of all people would understand that we cannot choose who they are. Just because I have Muggle parents, doesn't make me any less of a wizard than you. Blood is just that, _blood_. Something that runs through our body to keep us alive."

If it was even possible, Draco became even more conflicted. He was battling two entirely contradictory beliefs right now, both of which made no sense to him. Purebloods and Muggle-borns were different, but she'd shown him the opposite. He groaned, all he wanted was a clear, unambiguous answer and it seemed like no one was going to give him one.

The Gryffindor smiled. It was obvious he was trying hard to understand and she appreciated that more than anything, "I know it’s difficult to understand, but you have my gratitude for trying, Malfoy."

He rolled his eyes, “You should be glad. I’ve been losing sleep the past few weeks over a fucking word all because of you.”

“And I’ve faced bullying, prejudice, and harassment for years over that word all because of you,” she arched an eyebrow. Malfoy pressed his lips into a thin line at her response. It was true, he’s made most of her life a living hell because she was a Muggle-born, and he’s only suffered headaches over it.

Hermione drew her hand out, pulling him out of his thoughts, “Truce?”

The wizard stared at her hand, unmoving. Right as she was about to get embarrassed and draw her hand back, he wrapped his fingers around them and shook.

Satisfied, Hermione began to walk back inside, "Now I'm going to go inside and buy myself a cup of hot chocolate, you're welcome to join if you decide you want to be nice for once."

He scoffed. "No guarantees, Granger."

He had no idea what hot chocolate was, but there was no harm in seeing. Draco followed her as they weaved through the crowd, not stopping until they reached a small booth. He watched silently, his hands in his pockets as Hermione ordered two small cups of the hot beverage. She struggled with pulling the galleons out of her purse, he added clumsy to the list of Granger’s traits. After receiving the white paper cups from the bartender, she handed one to him.

"This is cinnamon," Hermione held up a small glass shaker she'd taken from a table. "You shake a small amount on top of the whipped cream and it makes the hot chocolate taste even better."

She shook the spice over her steaming cup of hot cocoa and handed it to Draco, "Try it, it's delicious."

He took the cinnamon from her, mimicking her previous actions. The Slytherin must've shaken it too hard because the next thing he knew, the previously pristine white cream was covered in a thick layer of cinnamon and the silver cap had fallen into his drink. Bits of the hot brown liquid dribbled over the sides of his paper cup and onto the marble floor.

Draco looked up to see Hermione with her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

"This bloody drink is cursed," he grumbled, his face flushed in embarrassment. "Who the fuck invented this?"

“It was actually created around 3,000 years ago by Muggles in an ancient civilization called the Maya,” she answered swiftly. Draco was about to comment how ridiculous Granger was for knowing the history of a chocolate drink but a staff member appeared next to them, his hands resting angrily on his hips. He shot Draco a death glare and snatched the cinnamon jar and ruined hot chocolate out of his hand. Hermione held back her laughter, handing her untouched drink to the boy. "Here, you can have mine. I've had one too many hot chocolates this winter anyway."

"Some nerve you've got, yeah, Malfoy?" Ron's voice interrupted. His eyebrows were furrowed in anger as he stepped protectively in front of Hermione.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Weaselbee, here to stick your bushy tail into everyone's business again?"

"Ron," Hermione started, stepping forward a little. His arm shot out to block her, triggering a dirty look from the blonde.

"Did you really make her buy you a drink? What happened to all your bloody money, mate?"

"Ron-"

"No, Hermione, I'm not going to let him treat you like this," he said, tossing a look behind his shoulder. Draco watched with one arched eyebrow, not bothering to respond to any one of the ginger's questions. He wasn't going to waste his breath on him.

She exhaled forcefully. He was getting on her nerves, "Ron, stop."

"Haven't you had enough of teasing her? Give her the hot chocolate back."

"RONALD!"

Finally, Hermione got his attention. Her eyes were wide with rising anger, "Malfoy wasn't bothering me, I gave him the drink."

He stumbled back a few steps, blinking in confusion. "Why would you do that? It's bloody _Malfoy_!"

Behind him, the blonde snickered. "Cheers, mate."

"I can handle myself, thank you very much, Ron" she knit her eyebrows together. "I don't need you defending me. I'm not helpless, you know."

Ron sputtered in disbelief, "But Malfoy-"

"We came to have a good time and all you've done is stuff your face with more than it can hold. Did you expect me to just sit and watch?"

"You're quite charming, Weaselton."

"Are you two friends now or something?" The Gryffindor boy sputtered, pointing between Hermione and Draco.

"No, I was just offering him a drink. What’s wrong?" She rose an eyebrow.

Ron widened his eyes like the answer was the most obvious thing ever. " _It's Malfoy_ ," he said for the thousandth time.

"Do you fancy me, Weasley?" Draco shifted his stance, an amused smirk made its way across his face. "Is that it? Seeing that you're so obsessed with me."

"Shove off, mate," he snarled, grabbing Hermione's arm. "Let's go find Harry."

She shut her eyes, all the energy she had to debate Ron sucked out of her and she allowed herself to be dragged away. Draco waited until the abundance of mocha-curls had disappeared into the crowd before redirecting his attention to the cup of hot chocolate in his hand. The cinnamon was sprinkled evenly over the whipped cream. It reminded him of the way Granger's chocolate freckles peppered across her nose and cheeks.

He took a sip.

⚯͛

The holiday break was over before she knew it and Hermione fell back into the comfortable routine of attending classes. Dumbledore's Army was gradually getting better at spells, she'd successfully conjured her Patronus a few days ago. It was an otter and she adored it with all her heart.

"Have you seen Cho?" Harry approached Hermione, fiddling with his wand. She shook her head in response.

Harry frowned, "That's strange, she said she would be here."

She's about to respond when a large boom rippled across the Room of Requirement. It was followed immediately by another ear-deafening bang.

"Someone's trying to break in," Hermione's eyes widened. And as if on cue, the wall crashed in and Umbridge's petite figure stood at the gaping hole in the wall. Her wand was drawn and the professor was breathing heavily. A victorious smile played at the corner of her lips. Filch and the Inquisitorial Squad stood behind her, smug grins written across their face. Hermione gave the crowd a quick scan and she noticed the boy she was looking for was missing.

Could he have quit? A crease appeared on her forehead. No, he wouldn't have-

Her questions were answered when Draco stumbled into a view, his hands wrapped tightly around the sleeve of Cho Chang's robe. Hermione heard Harry gulp beside her. She took Harry's hand in her's, squeezing it tightly. She didn't know if it was to reassure him or herself. _Of course it was Malfoy_. Why had she even thought otherwise?

She drew in a sharp breath when they made eye contact, Hermione noticed his jaw tightening.

"Run," she whispered to Harry, keeping her eyes glued onto Draco's. Harry returned the hand squeeze and threw his arm forward, casting a distraction spell. The quiet stillness of the standoff between the D.A and Inquisitorial Squad now broken.

Hermione felt Harry's hand release from her's and disappear elsewhere. There were too much chaos and noise for her to understand where her friend had just gone. She looked around her until she identified an opening. Sprinting forward, the Gryffindor made a mad dash for the exit. Her surroundings became a blur of colors as she dodged bodies and haywire spells.

Just as she was about to escape, Hermione felt a hand grab ahold of her shoulder. She's turned around, about to cast a spell, but the fringe of blonde hair stopped her. She gulped and widened her eyes, silently pleading. A heavy silence fell between the two as they stared at each other for what seemed like centuries.

And then Draco's grasp on her released.

Hermione gave him one last knowing look before turning on her heels. She didn't stop running until she was back in the safety of the Gryffindor Common Room. He’d spared her once again.

⚯͛

A few days passed and Hermione was nearly convinced she had somehow ended up in the deepest pits of hell. According to a very distraught Harry, Dumbledore had taken responsibility for the D.A, narrowly escaping the Ministry's grasp. Umbridge was then appointed the Headmaster of Hogwarts and everything had gone to shit.

She was seated in the Great Hall along with the other Year Five students. The only noise that echoed throughout the silent room was the scratching sounds of quill tips against paper and the occasional cough or sniff. Hermione breezed through her examination and leaned back in her seat. Her eyes darted around the room as she tried to cure her new boredom. They flicked to Professor Marchbanks who was pacing in front of the monstrous hourglass, then to the tuft of platinum blond hair, then to Harry.

Hermione couldn't make out his face but she could tell something was off. His face was buried deep within the palms of his hands. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at Harry. Was he... asleep? Her question was quickly answered when Harry fell off his chair, his body doubling over in pain as a bone-chilling scream escaped his lips. Everyone stopped what they were doing and directed their attention to the commotion. Hermione's eyes widened and she stood immediately, taking a step towards Harry.

"Sit down, Ms. Granger," Professor Marchbanks said sternly, holding her hand up. She looked at the class, "Continue your exams children, do not let this distract you."

Hermione let out a frustrated huff but she sat down anyway, obeying the professor's command. The older woman escorted Harry out of the Great Hall despite his protests as Hermione watched, she bit her bottom lip nervously and crossed her arms across her chest. A thousand scenarios ran through her head of what might've just happened.

None of them were good.

One excruciating hour later, Dumbledore's Army was on their way to Umbridge's office. The headmaster was the only one with a fireplace that wasn't being monitored, they could contact the Order from there. Harry had gotten an eerie vision, indicating that Sirius was in trouble and he insisted that they go save him instantly.

Hermione was tapping her feet on the stone floor nervously as she watched Harry throw Floo powder into the fireplace. Her instincts became red-alert when she heard scurrying footsteps approaching. Before she could even react, the wooden door was thrown open, barely missing Hermione by a few centimeters.

Umbridge was at Harry's feet in an instant, her small fingers wrapped around his brown locks, yanking his head up to meet her eyes. Her teeth were barred in fury, "Did you really think you could get past me and enter my office without my knowledge?!"

She was about to lunge forward to help when Hermione felt a pair of cold hands wrap around her wrist, restraining her from moving. "Stay still if you know what's best for you, Granger," Draco’s voice commanded. 

She swallowed hard and kept her eyes forward, watching helplessly as Umbridge questioned Harry. She cringed when she saw spit come out of the professor's mouth and land on the boy's cheek.

"Very well," Umbridge straightened her posture and let out a maniacal laugh. "If you won't tell me what you were doing, then you give me no choice but to use the Cruciatus Curse."

The words came out of Hermione's mouth before she could register it, "NO! I-I'll tell you, just please don't hurt my friends."

Draco tightened his grasp and he pulled her closer to him, hissing a low warning, " _Do you have a bloody death wish?_ "

She ignored him, moistening her now dry lips. Umbridge's full attention now trained on her, "Go on, dear. Don't keep us waiting, spit it out."

"We were trying to communicate with Dumbledore and tell him his secret weapon has been prepared," she lied, tightening her jaw. A flash of victory passed Umbridge's greedy eyes. "It's in the Forbidden Forest, I'll have to show you to explain."

The professor nodded slowly, folding her hands in front of her pink blouse. "Very well, but if you pull any tricks again, I'll have you sentenced to Azkaban for treason against the Ministry." She looked behind her, grabbing Harry by the wrist as she dragged him out of her office. "Come along, Potter."

Hermione twisted herself out of Draco's grasp to follow but she had barely taken two steps past the door before his fingers were around her wrist again. She spun around, narrowing her eyes at the Slytherin.

"What are you doing, I need to go," she said, pulling her arm slightly. "Umbridge is going to hurt Harry."

He looked around them nervously, perhaps making sure they were alone in the corridor before he redirected his attention at her. "Just don't come back with another bloody gash across your forehead, you don't want any more scars marking up your already unpleasant face."

"... Thanks, Malfoy," Hermione drew out slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Now will you let me go?"

The blonde dropped her arm immediately, "I wasn't going to keep you here forever, Granger."

She gave him one last curious look before spinning on her heels to catch up with Harry and Umbridge. She wrote off the strange interaction as Malfoy being, well, Malfoy.

The next few hours passed by in a blur.

After tricking Umbridge and watching her be dragged off by angry centaurs (which Hermione thought was well-deserved and hilarious), they - and a few members from the D.A - arrived at the Department of Ministry. At first, Sirius was nowhere to be found and it appeared to be empty, no doubt another mind trick by the Dark Lord. But just as they were leaving, they were furiously attacked by Death Eaters, one of them, to Hermione's surprise, was Lucius Malfoy. She felt a lump grow in her throat.

Then the Order arrived, along with Sirius, to assist them. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw a woman with a crooked posture and erratic hair shoot a green spell at Harry's godfather. She remembered seeing her in the papers, Bellatrix LeStrange, even her name brought a chill down Hermione's spine. Voldemort made an appearance too, battling Harry in a close battle.

Hermione had to drag her friend away from the press, her hand pressed tightly into his as a sign of comfort and reassurance that she was always going to be there for him. Their fingers were still intertwined when they arrived back at school with Dumbledore. As expected, the whole school had already gotten news on what had happened. News and gossip spread faster than the speed of light in the Wizarding World. She left Harry with Ron in the boy's dorms before going to get three mugs of jasmine green tea from the Hogwart's Kitchen.

"Granger," Draco appeared as she was making her way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. His face was paler than usual. "I-I heard what happened. I-, my father-"

She gave him a small smile, "It's okay, Malfoy. It wasn't your fault."

"I know, but-"

"Malfoy, truly. It's fine. I'll talk to you later," she said urgently, struggling to balance the three mugs in her hand. "Harry needs me right now."

The Slytherin nodded and ran his fingers through his hair, "Right, of course, I'll let you get on with that then."

Hermione smiled at him again, a silent thank you, before quickly returning to her best friends. That night, Harry cried in her arms more than she'd ever seen him do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter is particularly long. Anyways, the original plot is coming up next!! Can't wait :))


	5. The Sea

An excited yelp left Hermione’s lips. 

She was reading the Daily Prophet while packing when she noticed something on the lower right corner. It was an advertisement for a special reprint edition of Hogwarts: A History — this version  _ did not  _ gloss over important details like house-elves; she found that infuriating about the original copy. 

Her excitement quickly dissipated when she looked at the price. It was too expensive for her to afford with the allowance her parents gave her; plus, no one in their right mind would spend _ that  _ much on a book. Scratch that, she definitely would if she had the money. Sighing, she clicked her luggage closed and she made her way out of the dormitories. 

Hermione was walking to the courtyard, her bag gripped tightly in her fist when she noticed Draco sitting by himself on the stairs. His elbows were resting on his lower thigh, his face buried in the palms of his hands. She frowned, took a step back, and then walked to where the boy was seated. She set her bag down gently on the stone floor, careful not to startle him as she sat down beside him.

"Bugger off, Granger," he said quietly. 

She laughed dryly, "Believe me, I would if I could. But my damn Gryffindor tendencies and moral compass say no." 

Draco lifted his face up and turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed in anger. "Stop acting like you care about me. You and I both know that you don't, just go back to your little club." 

"I don't hate you, Malfoy," Hermione admitted, triggering a snort from the Slytherin. He didn’t believe her one bit. "I'm not completely heartless, what's wrong?"

He rolled his eyes and grabbed his own bag before standing, "You wouldn't understand, just leave me alone and go home."

She stood as well, collecting her belongings as she skipped down the stairs to catch up with him, "Help me understand."

"Stop, Granger, you can drop the bloody act," he snarled, quickening his pace to lose her. Much to Draco’s dismay, she matched her walking speed to his own, "It's not an act, just tell me what's wrong."

"Sod off."

"Maybe I can help-" 

Draco suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing Hermione to almost bump into his shoulder. He spun on his heels and faced her. His jaw was tightened and his pale skin was beginning to redden. The witch’s breath caught in her throat

"Fine," he spat. "If your nosy arse really wants to know, I can't fucking go home." 

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, "What do you me-"

"What do I mean?" He snickered, punching the inside of his cheeks with his tongue as he looked around. "I  _ mean _ I can't go back to my fucking house, not after my sorry excuse of a father was caught. I hate that fucking place, I can't  _ stand _ it." 

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line, "Can't you stay at your summer home?" 

"You're mad if you think I'd spend the summer alone in a cottage in the middle of nowhere," he shook his head at the thought of the idea before snickering. "I'd go crazy."

"Could you ask Parkinson? Or Zabini?"

"They don't even know about the house."

She paused, staring at the cobblestone floor. Hermione felt for the blond. It must be hard knowing your father was a  _ Death Eater _ and was on trial to be sentenced to Azkaban. She understood why he didn't want to return home, she wouldn't want to either. Despite her still rocky and strange relationship with Draco, Hermione found herself wanting to help him. An idea popped into her head, but she didn’t even analyze its pros and cons before blurting it out. 

"What if I go?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and she felt her face flushing with color already. Stupid girl. There was a thick and awkward silence between them and Hermione considered walking away.

"Granger, you need to work on your jokes because they're just terrible," he finally said, looking awfully confused. 

She debated whether or not to go along with it and pretend that she was, in fact, making playful banter — but Hermione continued to dig herself further into her grave. Curse her Gryffindor courage. "It's not a joke, I can stay with you for one or two weeks, just until you settle down and get comfortable." 

"As much as I'd  _ love _ to spend the summer with you alone," his voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Don't you have anything better to do than make my life worse than it already is?"

The Gryffindor rolled her eyes, "I’d like to be compensated in return. Preferably in the form of money."

“What in the world do you need more money for? Have you gone bankrupt?” 

“No, actually. They’ve released a special edition of Hogwarts: A History and it’s quite expensive.”

Draco was silent again for a few fleeting moments as he narrowed his eyes at Hermione, studying her for a while. She was going to sacrifice two weeks of her summer to buy a bloody useless book. 

The worst part of it all was that he believed her — that stupid girl would do anything for pages bound to a spine. He figured she could be useful, he didn't know how to cook, or really, do any basic survival skills. The house-elves did all the chores for the Malfoys back home, but they'd long transferred the elf that worked at his summer home back to the Manor. Granger could do that for him for the first few weeks and in the meantime, he'd find an alternative for after she left. 

"Okay," he agreed. "But no one can know about...  _ this _ . I'll need to tell my Mother why I'm not returning and where I'll be though, or she'll have every available Auror looking for me."

"Wouldn't she know you're at your summer home?"

Malfoy laughed humorlessly, "That is the absolute last place she'd check, too many cruel memories of our once happy and sane family."

"Okay," Hermione nodded slowly. "Tell your mum you'll be at one of your friend's home, like Nott's, and have her direct any owls there. Nott can send you her letters with his own owl and if she wants to see you, he can notify you and you can Apparate."

"For a person who seems insanely boring, you sure know a lot of ways to deceive parents. Do you have a double life no one knows about?" he said with a scoff.

She gave him a dirty look and as she spun on her heels to leave, Hermione wondered if she would grow to regret her offer. She hoped not. 

New mantra: think about the book. 

⚯͛

A couple of hours later, Hermione was standing next to Draco in front of a quaint stone cottage with ivy that crawled in between the cracks. Behind her, waves crashed onto the rocks and the golden sand. Well, she assumed it was golden. The sky was dark now, she could barely make out the silhouette of Malfoy. He was unusually quiet, just staring ahead.

"Nothing has changed," he murmured, stepping forward to open the door. There were hints of rust on the silver knob, undoubtedly caused by the ocean air. 

Hermione followed him in, watching as he waved his wand in one swift motion to light all the candles. Her breath was taken away as the darkness bled away. The cottage was beautiful. In the seating area, a couch was situated in front of a large fireplace. A wooden rocking chair that looked like it hadn't swayed in years, sat silently next to the couch. Behind the room was a small open kitchen and a long hallway that, she presumed, led to the bedrooms. 

"Don't act as if you've never seen a bloody house before, Granger," Draco's voice snapped her out of her awe. 

She draped her coat over the rocking chair, "Can't I admire the place? It's quite beautiful."

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbled. "I'm going to bed, we can go to town and get groceries tomorrow morning. You can take whichever room you want, just not my parents'." 

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line and gave him a small wave before he disappeared into the hallway. She heard the squeaky twist of metal against metal followed by a rush of water, her face reddening when she realized Draco was in the shower. Shaking the unpleasant thought from her head, Hermione explored the small cottage for a few minutes when something caught her eye. She approached the mantle on the fireplace and picked up a small wooden picture frame. Inside, there was a moving photo of two young adults and a boy in between them, he looked barely three years old. The boy giggled as he watched his parents share a quick kiss.

"Did you come here just to snoop into my private life?" 

His voice startled Hermione and the picture frame slipped out of her fingers, shattering on the wooden floor. 

"Great," she heard him huff. Hermione looked up to see Draco dressed in a loose-fitting black t-shirt and dark green plaid pajama pants, his blond hair was ruffled and still damp from his shower. His shoulder was pressed to the walls, his arms crossed across his chest as he looked at her with an unreadable expression. 

"I-I'm so sorry," she stammered, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. She kneeled down and pulled out her want, muttering a quick repairing spell before setting the frame back on the mantle again.

Draco nodded and unfolded his arms, "There are more in the drawer beside the couch if you decide you want to look at more photos and wonder how the Malfoy family possibly became so depressing."

"That's not-" she began, trying to defend herself, but he turned his back and walked back into the hallway. "What I was trying to do..."

Hermione gave the smiling family one last look before walking towards the corridor. The wooden floors of the cabin creaked under her steps. She entered the first room she came across and sank her tired body into the mattress. Hermione stared at the ceiling, pondering her decisions. She lied to Harry and Ron and told them she would be on vacation with her parents, then she'd lied to her parents and told them she was with Harry and Ron. All to spend two weeks of her summer with Malfoy...

She'd truly gone insane. 

⚯͛

The rays of the morning sun peaked through the windows, waking her up. Hermione groaned and pressed her face into her pillow; desperate to cling onto her escaping dream and fall back into it. To her disappointment, the attempt slipped between her fingers when she remembered where she was. Another groan escaped her lips. She forced herself off the bed, already feeling the warmth of the summer sun seeping into the walls of the cottage. Her body still felt heavy with sleep and it ached for a shower. 

She opened her door slowly and poked her head out, looking both ways to make sure it was clear before stepping out to the hallway. After finding the bathroom a few doors down, Hermione slid out of her pajamas and stepped into the tub. She twisted the shower knobs; letting the warm water wash away any lingering effects of her previous slumber. Her momentary peace was interrupted when the horrid sound of the doorknob turning pierced through the room. Hermione froze, her soap-covered fingers still tangled in the roots of her brown locks. Then the twisting sounds stopped.

“Bloody hell, Granger!” Malfoy’s voice said from behind the wooden door. “I can’t even use the fucking loo in my own house.”

“Good morning to you too!” she shouted back, rolling her pupils. Her fingers fell back into a scrubbing pattern against her scalp. She’d barely been awake for ten minutes and he was already giving her an earful. 

“Salazar, you’re going to drive me to insanity one day.” 

Hermione’s eyebrows drew together and she glared past the curtain  — as if he could see her facial expressions. “If you’re that desperate,  _ be my guest _ and enter, Malfoy. I know you know unlocking charms.” 

She held her breath, her heart hammering in her chest as she awaited his next actions. Surely he wouldn’t take her seriously. When all was quiet for the next few moments — except for the sound of running water, Her mione relaxed again. 

Ten and a half minutes later, she left the bathroom. Draco was sitting on a stool by the kitchen. He had a book in his hand and a glass of water in the other. He looked up when he heard Hermione approaching, forming an icy glare.

“The bathroom is available now,” she said flatly, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. The Slytherin simply responded with an incoherent grumble as he got up and brushed past her to enter the bathroom. 

It had been barely a few seconds when Malfoy barged out in angry strides. "Granger! What did you do in the bloody bathroom?" He huffed, coming to a stop inches from her. 

She twisted her face, "What do you mean?" 

"I mean the entire room smells like you and your fucking soap," he growled, throwing one arm behind him. 

Hermione let out a short laugh, "Sorry, did you want me to use your soap?" 

“Fuck," he groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. "I never should've agreed to this." 

She sighed and stepped away, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "I'm going into town to buy food, you can follow along or you can stay and continue being an arse." 

Hermione opened the door and was instantly hit with a wave of summer humidity and the unfaltering rays of sunlight. The salty ocean breeze cut through through the warmth, providing coolness in the otherwise sweltering heat. 

Her curls danced with the air as it whistled past her ear, she stood and took in the sights she couldn't in the darkness last night. The sky was a vibrant clear blue and the sun glistened on the surface of the sea, it reminded Hermione of an art project she did once with lots of gold glitter. She’d never seen anything so beautiful. 

"Have you been Petrified?" 

She turned around to face Malfoy. He had on a long-sleeved white shirt tucked into black pants. It was strange to see him in an outfit other than his Slytherin robes or his typical black suit. Hermione licked her lips and lifted her hand, beckoning the blonde to lead the way. She trailed a few steps behind him; they had to walk through a path thick with trees to get into the town. They stopped in front of a grocery store and Draco pointed inside, "I'll be back, I assume you have enough money?" 

"I should, where are you going?"

"Just wait here if I'm not back by the time you're done shopping," he instructed, turning to leave. 

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line as she watched the Slytherin disappear behind a corner. She walked into the grocery store and began to pick out food right away. Her wicker basket piled to the top in moments with the essentials and spices. Draco returned just as she left the store with two large totes in either hand.

He had two white paper bags in his hand too, spots of oil dotted the parchment. He almost punched Hermione as he offered one to her. She looked at him curiously and set down the groceries to take the small bag from him. She was surprised to find a flaky chocolate croissant nestled inside.

"I figured you'd be hungry," Draco explained, already munching on a pastry of his own. 

A smile crept onto her face, "Thank-"

He stopped her, "Don't thank me, I bought it because it would be troublesome for me if you got sick or died from hunger. Potter and Weasley would burn me alive."

"Of course," Hermione suppressed her smile and ripped off a piece of the buttery treat. "I still appreciate it."

He kneeled down to pick up half her bags and began walking towards the beach again. Like earlier, she followed a few steps behind the boy, munching silently on her breakfast. She was absolutely famished. The last piece of food she ate was yesterday evening, she had half a pumpkin pasty from the train trolley. They’d arrived at the cottage so late last night, her exhaustion overtook her hunger. 

A few minutes later, the duo arrived back at the cottage and Hermione noticed a small plot of land next to the house. 

"Is that a gardening area?" she asked as they approached the door. 

Draco looked in the direction she was looking at, "Yes, we used to grow our own vegetables and herbs. My mother used to garden." 

Excitement ran through Hermione, she's always wanted to try her hand at gardening, "Could I give it a go?"

"Have at it," the blond grumbled, stepping into the cottage. She gave the small area a last look before hopping inside as well. Draco waved his wand at their bags and the food flew to their respective storage areas. 

Hermione stood awkwardly as she watched, not knowing what to do now that they'd accomplished their goal, "What do you want to do now?"

"I don't care what you do, but I'm going to the beach. There's a library in town and a cafe that's not so terrible," his grey eyes flickered to her brown ones. "Just don't bother me."

There was a loud snap and then he was gone. 

⚯͛

The sun was setting on the horizon and dipping below the sea when Draco returned. She was kneeled over the small plot, pressing the last tomato seed into the soil when she heard his footsteps on the cobblestone. She brushed her dirt-stained hands on her shorts before following him inside. 

"Hello," she greeted him a little too cheerfully. "How was your day?"

He turned and Hermione noticed his hair was damp and his shirt was clinging to his wet skin. He looked like he’d gone for a swim. "Fine." Draco's eyes flickered from her face to the soil caked in her nails and back to her face again, his eyebrow rose.

"You're filthy," his lips twisted in disgust and he pointed a spot on his forehead. Hermione's eyes widened, her fingers swiping quickly at the same place on her face. She felt the brittle roughness of dried dirt on her skin. Her cheeks reddened immediately. 

"Sorry," she didn't know why she was apologizing. "Give me a minute to clean up and then I'll make us something to eat." 

He responded with a nod and Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line before retreating to her room. She closed the door gently behind her, letting out a silent sigh once she was alone. Despite the stunning views and the mouth-watering pastries the small town had to offer, the Gryffindor felt uncomfortable and awkward. Malfoy rarely spoke to her, and when he did, it was in short abrupt sentences. Hermione found it unusual and part of her missed their typical witty back-and-forth banter. 

After she'd taken a quick shower and rid all specks of soil off of her, she padded to the empty kitchen. Humming a tune to herself, Hermione grabbed a jar of pesto and pasta noodles from the pantry. She was just plating the dish when Draco emerged. 

"Why don't you use magic for that?" he asked, seating himself on a chair. 

Hermione slid him a plate and a fork, seating herself in front of him. "Where's the fun in that?” 

She shoved a mouthful of the green pasta into her mouth and watched as the boy poked and prodded the food. She raised an eyebrow, "Is something wrong?" 

"What the bloody hell did you put on this? Is this some kind of grass sauce?"

The young witch's eyes widened as she stared at Malfoy in disbelief. A short laugh escaped her lips and she covered her mouth instantly, looking to the side to try and hide her amusement. 

"What the fuck is so entertaining, Granger?" 

She turned to face him again, his pale face was red with anger or embarrassment, she couldn't tell. "What did you call the sauce again?"

Draco blinked, furrowing his eyebrows. He had no idea why Granger was snickering to herself. "Is this not grass sauce? It looks like you blended the weeds from outside, dumped it on noodles, and called it a day." 

"It's  _ pesto _ ," she corrected him, laughing lightly. "Have you really never seen pesto before?"

"Does this  _ pesto  _ use grass as its main ingredient?"

Hermione shook her head, stabbing the noodles into the prongs of her fork, "Relax, Malfoy. It uses basil, just give it a try. I promise it won't taste like grass." She paused and thought about her statement, then added, "Though I can't guarantee that because I'm not a bloody cow, and I don't know what grass tastes like." 

He scoffed, "I'd beg to differ."

“ _ Just try it _ .”

The Slytherin glowered, hesitating as he shoveled a forkful of pasta into his mouth. He chewed slowly; the flavors of garlicky basil danced on his taste buds. He found himself taking another bite, this time with less hesitation than before. 

“How is it?” she asked. He could feel her golden-brown eyes watching him closely and analyzing every change in facial expression. Draco swallowed and scooped another few pieces of the bowtie shaped noodles onto his fork, “It’s fine.”

A little wrinkle on the bridge of his nose appeared. The telltale sign that he was lying. 

Hermione smothered a smirk by taking a sip from a glass of water. She finished the last of her dish and stood to put it in the enchanted sink. The evening was still early and it would be hours before she retired to bed, she had no idea what to do until then. Striking up a conversation or playing a board game with Malfoy was out of the window. He’d say no before she even asked the question. She supposed she could visit the library he mentioned earlier. Grabbing her wand off the kitchen counter, she slipped it into her small beaded endless handbag. 

“Where are you off to?” Draco asked, watching as she paced around the small cottage. 

“Just the library, there’s not much to do around here.” 

“Well, don’t get bloody lost or I’ll have to come looking for you before you get eaten by a pack of wolves,” he grumbled. The Slytherin stood with his plate, which Hermione noted was clean, and glared at her, “If I get charged for your murder, Granger, I’ll make sure you live a terrible afterlife.” 

She shook her head as she exited the cottage — the door closed gently with a click. For someone who wanted nothing to do with her, Malfoy was obsessed with ruining her life. And now, apparently, he planned to mess with her afterlife too. Arsehole. 

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in the cool salt air, she still hadn’t gotten the chance to see the beach. Slipping her shoes off, the brunette opted for the cobblestone path that lewd to the ocean — the earth cold beneath her bare feet. The library would have to wait. She carefully made her way down the small hill, avoiding stray twigs and sharp rocks. 

When she felt sand sink in between her toes, Hermione felt giddy; the soft brittleness of the beach was unlike the harsh land by the Great Lake. She continued down the strand until she was at the edge of the water, the moon glistening across its surface. She lowered herself onto the ground and propped her knees up, her arms loosely wrapped around them as she stared out at the dark murkiness. 

There was an eerie peace here. The sea washed up to her feet as if the shore were pulling a blanket on itself and the ocean breeze blew gently on her face as if it were caressing her cheeks. The young witch let out a sigh, she wondered who was on the other side of the vast body of water. Were they seated just like her and staring mindlessly out into the horizon? What kind of predicaments were they facing and were they nearly as terrible as her own? 

Drawing her mind from the war, Hermione looked around the beach. It wasn’t very large, stretching just over a kilometer long from one cliff end to another. She couldn’t imagine Malfoy running around the sand, that little blond kid in the picture was very different than the boy she knew in the cabin. Part of her wanted to get to know the Slytherin more — to understand each complex layer of him — but Hermione knew better than to step into such treacherous territories. 

The moon was in the center of the sky when she urged herself to get up again. She trudged back toward the small cottage and opened the door slowly to find Malfoy seated in front of the fireplace; a book in his hand. 

Hamlet. 

“So the tragic story of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, didn’t end up in the fireplace after all,” Hermione said, announcing her presence. Draco turned to glare at her, he snapped the novel shut. “I was beginning to hope the wolves had gotten to you.” 

“Make up your mind, Malfoy,” she rolled her eyes, hanging her bag on the coat hanger. “Do you want me dead or not?” 

He ignored her question and smirked, “I didn’t know a hurricane had passed by, how have you managed to make your hair look even worse than usual?”

“Don’t you ever shut up? Was being an arse built into your DNA?” the Gryffindor fired back. She made sure to bump into him harshly as she walked past him — inciting a low hiss from the boy. Hermione fled into the safety of her room before he could react and cause another scene. With the flick of her wrist, she changed into her cotton sleepwear and fell backward onto the bed. 

Two weeks, she’d agreed to two weeks. She’d just have to put up with him for the rest of her time here and she’d finally have money to purchase that limited edition copy of Hogwarts: A History. 

Just thirteen more days to go, what could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was shorter than other chapters! School and work has me busy 24/7
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked that update! Remember to follow me on Twitter (@athenswrites) if you haven't yet!! I would love to communicate and interact with you guys there


	6. The Stars

The sound of sizzling pierced through the early morning ambiance.

Hermione hummed to herself as she cracked another egg on the hot pan, the translucent albumen transforming quickly into a pale cream color upon impact. When the edges of the whites began to turn a crispy golden brown, she transferred them to two plates; each already topped with three slices of bacon and toasted bread. Malfoy was still fast asleep, so she cast a spell on his serving to keep it warm and fresh. Her internal clock had been conditioned to wake up early for classes, making her an early riser in the first weeks of summer.

By the time the Gryffindor finished eating, it was already mid-morning. She retreated to her room and put on a set of denim overalls before tying her hair back with a red bandana; she was going to plant herbs in the garden today. She stepped out of her room to see Draco walking down the hall — blond hair ruffled and eyelids droopy. Her brown orbs lingered on his sleep-like state a little longer than she cared to admit.

"Good morning, there's a plate of food on the table," she said, pointing toward the kitchen.

He blinked sleepily. His morning voice was rough and lower than usual, "Why are you so bloody energetic in the morning? It's giving me a headache."

Hermione stifled an eye-roll as she moved past him to exit the cabin. Like usual, she stalled at the doorway a while, admiring the view of the glistening sea. She had to will herself to move again and turned to take the dirt path to town. She would never get tired of the way the sun bounced off the ocean.

Ten minutes later, she found the little gardening store she visited yesterday; a little bell jingled when she pushed the door open. "Hello. Miss Granger, was it?" the old shopkeeper greeted her. He was standing behind a counter, tying bouquets with a wave of his wand. She placed her finger under her nose, the pollen was thick in here.

She nodded with a warm smile, "Yes, I visited yesterday, sir. Could you direct me to the herbs?" He pointed a shaky hand to the left and Hermione thanked him, skipping in the direction. She picked up packets of seeds as she scanned the shelf — rosemary, parsley, thyme, and of course, basil. The brunette chuckled to herself as she thought of making fresh "grass sauce" with the herb. It still surprised her that Malfoy had no idea what pesto was, but then again, she had no idea what posh people ate. She paid and exited the store; the little bell jingling again when she left.

She was walking back to the cottage when a voice stopped her in her path, "Hermione Granger?"

Turning slowly, the brunette's eyes flickered up to meet the person who said her name. She waved awkwardly, "Hello, McLaggen. Fancy seeing you here."

The dirty blond grinned, "My family decided to come for the summer, we have a house here. What about you?"

"Oh," she chuckled forcefully, "yeah, me too. Visiting with family."

"I'm going to get brunch at the cafe later, care to join me?" Cormac eyed her up and down. Hermione felt instantly uncomfortable in the presence of the older student. She looked over her shoulder, desperate to escape the situation and continue down to the cottage. The wizard followed her line of sight.

"You know, Malfoy's family used to live down by the beach," he tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants. "What a shame his father became a Death Eater. You know, they say the Malfoys abandoned the place because that bloody git could serve — you know who — better from their manor. That family is mad, I tell ya."

Hermione licked her lips nervously, "The biggest lies start with 'they say', don't believe everything you hear, McLaggen."

The boy shrugged, "It's true. Do you want to go see what treasures they left behind? Bet there's something valuable we can sell."

"No!"

"Sorry?" he blinked curiously at her sudden increased volume. _Shit._

"I mean, _no_ , I would rather go get brunch with you," she said quickly, covering her slip-up. "Lead the way!"

"Brilliant!" Cormac's suspicious expression was replaced with that annoying smug smile again, Hermione wanted to slap it off.

They walked side by side down the road, the blond struck up a one-sided conversation with her. He babbled on endlessly about Quidditch and how he was going to become Keeper next year; Hermione simply answered with dry responses. She could care less about his aspirations. He came to a stop in front of a quaint French-inspired cafe. They entered and sat at a table in the corner of the room.

"Hello! Welcome to La Promenade Cafe," a waitress approached them with menus. "Can I get you started with anything?"

"I'll just have the ham sandwich and tomato soup," Cormac said, handing the menu back immediately. "She'll have the same-"

" _Actually_ ," Hermione interrupted, raising an eyebrow at him. "I'll have a chocolate croissant and iced coffee." She turned to the waitress, "And can I have the same order, but for takeaway."

"Two orders?" he asked once the waitress had left. He leaned back in his seat, flicking his thumb across his lower lip. She was one second away from vomiting in this beautiful cafe. "Are you eating both portions? Women shouldn't eat too many sweets."

" _No,_ " her voice was laced with thick venom and she struggled with holding back a hex. "I just thought my mum would enjoy some too."

"You're not going to get your father anything?"

She shook her head, "It's okay, I didn't bring enough money."

"Nonsense, Granger." he turned to the waitress who was serving someone on the other end of the room, he snapped his fingers together. "Oi! Can you make double her takeaway order?"

"McLaggen! Stop!" she hissed, widening her eyes at his insane behavior. "Where are your manners?"

He chuckled, turning back to face Hermione, "Relax, I'll pay for the meal."

She closed her eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of her nose. She'd known he was an arrogant, thick-headed, twerp, but she didn't realize he was this terrible. Merlin, help his soul.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

⚯͛

One excruciating hour later, Cormac had finally finished his food and paid for their meal. Hermione offered to pay for her portion, but the older boy insisted, saying quote "it was the gentleman thing to do". She had to hold herself back from laughing at that comment.

"Well, this was nice!" he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he stood. "We should do it again sometime."

"Oh no," the witch shook her head. "I don't want to be bothersome."

"You'd never be a bother, Hermi-."

"It's Granger to you," she cut him off and grabbed the extra pastries and coffee. "Thank you for the food, but I must be going now."

"Okay, _Granger_. Let me walk you back, where are you staying?"

"It's quite far, I'm just going to Apparate."

Before he could say another word, Hermione closed her eyes and focused on an image of the cottage. The sounds of forks clinking against ceramic plates slowly faded away, replaced by the roar of waves and the smell of salty air. She opened her eyes and found herself on the steps of the cabin, thank Godric that was over. Her positive mood from this morning had been ruined by the conceited git.

She pushed the door open to find Malfoy seated on the couch, munching on a biscuit. Hermione noted that platinum blond was a much more pleasing colour than dirty blond. He narrowed his eyes at her when he heard her enter and stood. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Bumped into McLaggen and he wanted to have brunch," she tossed him the chocolate croissants. "I got you these, well, technically he paid for it."

" _McLaggen_? What the fuck are you doing with that sorry excuse of a wizard?" the Slytherin sneered, he felt something sinister form in his chest. He tossed the pastries into a nearby trashcan. "Does he know you're staying with me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Relax, Malfoy. I'm not stupid."

"I don't want you near him again," he said, watching her pull seeds out of her bag. "You're going to get us caught and make us the laughing stock of the school."

"I wouldn't go near that man again if my life depended on it."

"If anyone finds out we're staying together for the summer, I'm going to make you regret you were ever born, Granger."

"Oh, _shut it_!" she scowled, her voice rose an octave. "I'm so sick of you men acting like you're better than me! I had to deal with McLaggen's misogynistic arse for over an hour to save _your_ bloody arse, I don't need your clever comments right now."

"Save _my arse_? I don't need your protection."

"Yes, Malfoy. He made rude comments about your family — I shut him down — and then proceeded to ask if I wanted to join him in raiding your cottage for valuables to sell. I stopped him, and you're damn welcome."

Draco drew his eyebrows together, "I could've taken him."

Hermione snorted. "He's a year above us and knows more spells than you do. Plus, one look in the cottage and he would've known I was staying there too."

The platinum-blond was silent. He decided to it was better to change the subject rather than admit Granger was right. "What are you planting?" he asked, following her out of the cabin and to the small garden.

A sliver of a smile cracked on the witch's face. Turning to face the boy, she held a packet of seeds in front of him. "Basil."

"Oh for Merlin's sake," he groaned. "I know what pesto is now, can you just forget what happened yesterday?"

"You mean grass sauce, and no, I'm never going to forget the fact that Draco Malfoy called pesto: _grass sauce_."

"Watch your back, Granger," he crossed his arms across his chest. "Obliviation isn't difficult."

The Gryffindor knelt down and began preparing the soil the way Professor Sprout had taught them, "Go ahead and Obliviate me, I'd love to forget all about you, Malfoy. It would be a gift."

He mumbled something underneath his breath and disappeared back inside the house. A few moments later, he appeared again — this time in different attire.

"You're doing it wrong," he sighed, kneeling beside Hermione. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as he refilled a spot she had dug up. "They need to be further apart, the plants need bloody space to grow. You don't want to suffocate them, those insane vegan activists will come for your throat for plant cruelty."

"Actually, veganism is something we should all be practicing, studies have shown that meat consumption is one of the leading factors of climate change."

"Leave it to you to know a random fact."

Ignoring his comment, she watched curiously as Malfoy planted the basil seeds for her, "Didn't think you listened in Professor Sprout's class."

"I didn't," he admitted, eyebrows raised in amusement. "Who would listen to that dumpy brainless Hufflepuff? I learned from watching my mother. She'd garden like a madman when my father was in one of his moods."

The witch pressed her lips into a thin line, a sad expression formed on her face, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

An awkward silence fell between the two and Hermione brushed her fingers across the smooth wooden planting box. She fished her wand out of her pocket and carved her initials into the side of it.

**_H.G was here_ **

"Stop being childish and plant the rest of these seeds," Malfoy said, looking at her etching with disapproval. Hermione shook her head and wrote next to it.

**_D.M is being an arse_ **

Draco scowled and drew his own wand. He made a long dash through the last half of the sentence and cut his own words right above it.

**_D.M is_ ** ~~**_~~b~~ eing an arse _ ** ~~ **** **doing all the work**

"Hey! I rebuilt and planted half this garden yesterday on my own," Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "Don't take the credit."

"You had it coming."

Shaking her head, the witch grabbed the rest of her seeds and started planting them into the soil. When they finished filling the small garden with plants and herbs of all kinds, the sun had begun its descent. Hermione stood, brushing her dirt-stained hands together. "This is going to be wonderful."

"Because I saved it," Malfoy added, stepping away to enter the cottage. She followed close behind and undid the bandana around her hair, letting the brown locks fall on her shoulders again.

"I'll make us dinner after I clean-up," she said, walking to her room. She paused in front of the door, her hand hovering over the handle as she turned to look at Draco. "And thank you."

He raised an eyebrow.

"For not being a complete and total prick today. I appreciate it."

⚯͛

Hermione was in the middle of peeling potatoes when Draco emerged — a white towel draped over his shoulders. She looked at him, "Mind giving me a hand?"

He said nothing as he picked his wand up from the kitchen counter, giving the bowl of unpeeled potatoes a wave. The brown skins fell off immediately and Hermione blinked twice at the action.

"If you use magic for everything, you're going to become a potato yourself, Malfoy."

The blond shrugged, "You asked for help and I gave it to you." He waved his wand at the half-peeled potato in her hand, finishing the job for her, "You're welcome."

Shaking her head, Hermione continued with making the meal. She found peace, a sort of tranquility, with cooking. With everything so out of grasp these days, making food was something she had control over and it calmed her. Sure, she could use magic and cut down the time it took to make a meal in half, but where was the fun in that?

An hour later, she pulled a glass dish out of the even, and a smile formed on her face — it was perfect. Using a knife, she sliced it into the Shepherd's Pie and placed it on a set of plates.

"Is that what I think it is?" Malfoy said curiously. He'd gotten up from reading the Daily Prophet on the couch.

Hermione nodded proudly, handing him a plate and fork. "I found a recipe card in the cupboards. Is it any good?"

She sucked in a breath as she watched him cut a piece from the corner of the potato and meat dish. He chewed for what seemed like ages before swallowing. A nostalgic expression washed over him, "It tastes just like Mother's..."

"I'm glad," the witch let out a relieved exhale and she took a plate for herself. She opted to sit in the comfortable cushions on the couch tonight. Snuggling herself into a corner, she began to eat. Narcissa Malfoy's recipe was delicious.

"How long has it been since you've had your mum's Sheperd's Pie?" Hermione asked. Draco settled into the single-seater sofa diagonal from her. It suddenly occurred to her how strange the situation was. Here she was, alone in a cottage with Malfoy, and neither was at each other's throats. She recalled how just a few months prior, Malfoy's wand was digging into her neck and she was shredding their assignment to pieces.

Hermione never hated the Slytherin, _strongly_ _disliked_ , was more like it, but not hate, _never_ hate. She's never hated anyone, with the exception being he who must not be named. Call it naiveness, but she believed that anyone, including Malfoy, was capable of good, of kindness; she'd seen it.

His voice cut her out of her thoughts, "I don't remember, it's been years."

The blond pointed outside in the direction of the garden, clearly not interested in the current subject, "Why didn't you plant any flowers?"

"Oh, I'm allergic," Hermione responded. "Flowers are so beautiful, but if I get too close, my eyes begin to water and my nose begins to run. It's not a pleasant sight."

"Allergic? To flowers? You mean to tell me pretty pink petals can defeat you?" his lips parted in surprise. "And all this time, I've been losing our fights when I could've shoved a daisy in your face?"

The Gryffindor laughed lightly, "Yeah, Malfoy. Wave a daisy under my nose and I'm done for."

"Noted. I'll go buy daisies tomorrow."

When they'd finished their meal and cleaned up the dishes, the baby blue sky had been replaced with a deep navy colour. Draco suddenly stood, startling Hermione.

"Granger, put on something warm," he instructed, slipping on a pair of hiking boots. She cocked her head and grabbed a jacket that was resting on the coat hanger.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

He walked out of the cottage, making sure to lock the door with a spell behind them.

"This way," he muttered, beckoning for Hermione to follow him. He started in a path opposite of the one that led to town. The smooth cobblestone road bled into a rocky dirt one as the terrain roughened. They began to walk up a hill thick with bushes and trees with low dipping branches, the leaves shielded the moonlight as they entered deeper into the area. She could barely see a thing. Taking out her wand, she muttered a quick Lumos spell; the space around them lit up in a soft glow. Hermione ducked to avoid a tree branch and when she stood again, the trees around them had cleared to open land. The wind up here was much harsher and louder than below, she had to wrap her arms around herself to keep warm. She moved around Malfoy and the sight before her took her breath away. She gasped in awe.

The stars were much brighter here and shined in the most brilliant way possible. Beautiful would not even begin to describe the view she was seeing. It was like someone had draped a dark curtain across the sky and spilled a bucket of silver glitter across it. Like the teardrops of solemn angels had been scattered throughout the heavens. They felt so close, Hermione almost believed that if she reached out right now, she would be able to touch each individual glowing dot.

And unbeknownst to her, Draco's attention had not been stolen by the magnificent night sky, but rather, his eyes were trained on hers. Along with the flecks of gold, her brown orbs were speckled flickers of light and amazement. His mind wandered to the night of the Christmas party, and how he'd thought her freckles resembled the cinnamon. The Slytherin realized now that he'd been entirely wrong, the dots splattered delicately across her nose and cheeks mirrored the stars.

He wondered if he'd be able to draw constellations from them too.

Draco felt a lump grow in his throat as he returned his eyes upwards. The thoughts felt taboo and like a foreigner in his brain. He forced them out, pushing them to the deepest crevice of his mind. He felt disgusted in himself for letting such _vulnerable_ , such _untethered_ thoughts roam free. There was no reasonable explanation for what he was thinking... except for maybe one.

"What did you put in the pie?" he said suddenly, his tone dangerous.

Hermione slowly drew her gaze to him. It was hard to tear away from the sky, "Is something wrong? Do you feel sick?"

"You could put it that way," he growled and his hands tightened at his sides. "I mean, did you put some kind of potion? A spell?"

The Gryffindor's eyebrows drew together in confusion, "I'm sorry, _what_?"

"I'm having thoughts about you that I've never had before, they certainly wouldn't have appeared on their own," he pointed angrily to his head. "What is it? Some friendship potion? Something that causes a form of infatuation? _Tell me_ , Granger."

A forced laugh escaped Hermione's lips as she stared at him like he was crazy, "What are you on about? I didn't put anything in tonight's dinner. I don't have a clue what kind of thoughts you are having, but I assure you, they are _entirely your own._ "

"You're lying, putting potions into people's food is not as funny as you think it is," he hissed.

The witch threw her hands in the air and shook her head, "Nope, I am not dealing with this. I'm going back to the cabin."

She turned to leave, but Hermione felt fingers wrap around her wrist. She turned to glare at Malfoy and pulled back in one harsh motion to escape his grasp. The action caused her to lose her balance and she threw her arms out to brace for the fall. Her palms grazed across the dirt and rocks, followed by a stinging pain that shot up her arm.

"Granger-" his eyes were wide and he took a step towards her. His expression was unreadable

Hermione winced as she lifted herself off the ground, "Stop right there. Don't you _dare_ take another step near me."

With a loud snap, the witch disappeared, leaving Draco to stand alone in the clearing. She reappeared in her bedroom of the cottage, stumbling a bit as she regained herself from the Apparition.

"Accio, notebook," she announced. A small journal flew out of her luggage and into her hand. Thank Godric, Madam Pomfrey had taught her a healing spell on how to repair a sprained wrist. She sat on the edge of her bed and reviewed the incantation before trying it out.

" _Shit_ ," she muttered to herself with frustration, the wand motion was difficult to do with her non-dominant hand. The sound of a snap outside the bedroom door caused her to whip her head up. _Malfoy_. She instantly cast a spell to lock it. But when the person outside shifted, Hermione realized instantly that the footsteps were too heavy to be the Slytherin's. She held her breath and stood, quietly making her way closer to the door.

There was another snap and the familiar voice of Malfoy echoed through the hall. She felt her shoulders relax a little.

" _McLaggen_ , care to explain why you're in my bloody house?"

 _Cormac_? Hermione thought to herself. That stupid prat actually went forward with his idea.

"Oh, I didn't know anyone was home," the Gryffindor boy said with a laugh. "Are those a girl's shoes? Who are you here with, Malfoy?"

"That's merely a relative who was visiting, now leave before I call the authorities."

"Okay, fine! You're no fun at all," Cormac responded. There was another snap and all was quiet again.

"He's gone now, Granger," Draco sighed. "How are your injuries?"

"I'm fine," she spat. Before she could react, the boy opened the door with an unlocking spell. He looked at her hands, there were thin slices scratched across the palms, and droplets of blood leaked from them.

"You're not fine," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"I will be when you leave."

The blond took a cautious step towards her, "Let me help you, you can't possibly heal that on your own."

When Hermione didn't object, he took one long stride to her and closed the distance. She gulped as he took her hands gingerly, like she was made of porcelain and if he held her any tighter, she would shatter. Their closeness felt different this time, there were no threats that hung between them, no clenched fists and tightened jaws — just a feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"There's a spell to heal my wrist, I can't do it on my own," she pointed to the open spellbook on her bed when he'd finished healing the scratches. Draco reached for it, studying the spell with concentration. He waved his wand perfectly and Hermione felt the pain in her wrist dissipate.

"Thank you."

She stepped around him, heading for the kitchen. The cliff was colder than she'd anticipated and the minor accident left her slightly shaken; hot chocolate was the only remedy. She warmed a cup of milk with her wand and poured it over the cocoa mix before seating herself on the couch. Draco sat in the same chair from earlier. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his upper thigh — clasping his hands together.

"Granger-"

"Just drop it," she shook her head. "It's fine."

"But it's not-"

Hermione sighed, "I caused myself to fall."

"I grabbed you-"

She cut him off again with a snicker, "Are you really arguing with me to get me to say that you were wrong? What happened to the Malfoy that called me Mudblood and filthy inferior bitch every day?"

Draco inhaled sharply, he hadn't thought about blood purity in a few weeks; it only hurt his head. He hadn't even thought about it a few minutes earlier when he held Granger's hand and patched up the bloody cuts.

"Do you still believe that Pureblood supremacy bullshit?" the Gryffindor asked, her eyes were piercing into his own as she ran her fingers over the edge of her mug.

He licked his drying lips, "I — I don't know. My father, he always taught me that Muggle-born wizards were inferior, feral, and dirty. Of course, I didn't believe most of the propaganda — I'm not completely brainless — but I still picked up some of his twisted ideals."

"Do you still believe I'm inferior to you?"

He didn't answer that.

Hermione exhaled and took a long swig of her drink. She pointed to the book that sat on the drawer beside him, changing the topic of conversation again, "How's Hamlet?"

"A lot better than that crap Romeo and Juliet, but don't get me wrong — Shitspeare is still shit like all your Muggle authors."

"Okay," she nodded and set her empty mug on the coffee table.

"Okay?"

"We're going to the library tomorrow and I'm going to get you a few of my favourite books written by Muggles and you're going to enjoy them."

Draco scoffed and adjusted his position so he was laying on the couch, his head resting on the armchair and his legs draped over the other, "Highly unlikely, Granger. Muggles have no artistic talent and that's a fact. I'm not going to willingly subject myself to psychological torture to please you."

"How's this? If you like the first book I choose, I get the satisfaction of proving you wrong. But if you don't like it, you get to choose whatever activity you'd like tomorrow night."

He thought about it for a minute and an amused smirk stretched across his lips, "Deal."

When she didn't respond, he turned his head to look at her. The brunette's arm was propped on the armchair and her head resting on a balled fist. Granger's eyes were closed, she had fallen asleep. The sight caught him off guard. For once, the girl didn't look troubled, like the weight of the world had left her shoulders. One of her curls had become untucked from her ear and it hung in front of her face with that stupid sun-kissed tan and those stupid long eyelashes. Draco stood and gave her one last look before turning to go back to his room. In a low, hushed voice, he admitted what he would never say out loud if she were awake.

"I've stopped thinking you were inferior months ago, you're more deserving of magic than I've ever been." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening lovely people, I've put aside all my assignments this weekend just to write. Someone teach me how to set my priorities right :,) 
> 
> ALSO important question! Should I keep the name as "Salt Air" or should I change it to "For The Hope Of It All"
> 
> Well, I need to go do those assignments now. I may or may not be able to update next week, I thought I would have more free time this semester, but I was wrong. Hopefully, I find the time because I have major plans! As of now, enjoy this new chapter! <3


	7. The Unexpected

"I don't think we should go into town together anymore," Hermione said as she hooked up a green hose to the side of the house.

Draco was crouched down next to a plant box and examining the sprouting seeds. They'd cast a charm on the plants to help them grow faster than usual, and this morning, they woke to little stubs of green sticking out of the dirt. It excited Hermione so much that she squealed in delight, but not without inciting an eye-roll from Malfoy right after.

"We can't risk having McLaggen catch us together," she continued, stepping over the hose to drag it toward the plant boxes. "Godric knows he can't keep his mouth shut. If Harry or Ron found out—"

The Slytherin snorted, interjecting her sentence, "Loosen up, yeah, Granger? I get it. I would rather be caught with a fucking Hufflepuff than you.

"Was that supposed to be an insult?" she pressed on the handle of the hose and began to water the plants. The light soil turned a shade darker.

"It wasn't a compliment."

Hermione swirled her tongue in her mouth, "I didn't put anything in your food last night, but it doesn't mean I can't in the future. Watch your words, Malfoy."

"Arsehole," he muttered under his breath. The witch lifted the green pipe, aiming it directly at him with narrowed eyes.

Her fingers hovered dangerously close to the trigger, "Say that again, I _dare_ you."

Malfoy stood and stared straight into her eyes, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, " _Arsehole_."

Before Hermione could press down on the hose, the air around him pulled together, and then he was gone, followed by the loud snap of an Apparition. She scoffed and walked to another plot of land.

_Coward._

After she finished watering the plants, Hermione returned inside to clean up before going to town. She was going to find Muggle-written books for Draco to try as per the deal made last night. The witch already had several in mind, including classics from both English and American literary authors.

⚯͛

The journey to the library took longer than she expected. Malfoy had not told her where it was and she had to ask several locals to point in her the right direction. To her surprise — and delight — the library was slightly larger than the other small buildings in town. It was a red brick building, situated on the corner of a street with stone stairs leading up to the doors.

She stepped inside and was instantly met with the smell of old parchment and dusty shelves. It was dim, the small windows barely let in any natural light — to preserve the books, no doubt. There was no one else here except for the librarian who was sitting in front of a counter, a book propped in her hands. The frail little glasses that sat on her nose slipped every few seconds and the old woman had to push them back up again and again. Resisting the urge to cast a charm to keep the spectacles still, Hermione turned down a row of shelves.

She always loved libraries; they felt safe. Secure. Something about being surrounded by the stories of heroes — real and fiction — made her feel protected. It was absurd and, honestly, a bit childish, but that was the way she felt and she couldn't change it, even if she wanted to. The Gryffindor walked slowly as she browsed the titles, many of which she'd already read once or twice. She rounded the corner to follow a sign that read "Muggle Collection" when she almost collided with someone.

"Sorry — oh," Hermione grimaced when she realized who she had bumped into. "It's you."

"I saw you walk in earlier and decided to say hi," Cormac grinned, flashing his pearly white teeth. "Should've known I'd find you here."

She tightened her grip around her bookbag and made to move past the older boy, but to her dismay, he sidestepped to block her.

"Woah, sweetheart," he held up his hands, stopping her. "In a hurry?"

_Yeah, to escape from you._

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line, "What do you want, McLaggen?"

He chuckled, leaned against a bookshelf, and crossed his feet together; completely unaware of her icy demeanor. "There's a festival happening at the end of this week, I'm giving you the honor of attending with me."

"That's very kind of you, but no thanks," she forced a smile on her face and pushed past him.

"Sleep on it!" he called after her.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione ignored him and kept walking forward. McLaggen was a walking circus. She forced the unwanted blond out of her head and continued down the rows of books to the Muggle section. It was a small nook — tucked into the furthest corner of the already humble library. A title caught Hermione's eye immediately and she slid it out of the shelf. She tucked it under her arm and continued to browse until her arms could hold no more.

"Hello, ma'am," she said with a gentle smile, approaching the librarian.

The old woman looked up from her book and returned the same expression, "Hello, darling. I haven't seen you around before."

"Oh, I'm just going visiting for the summer," Hermione answered, setting down the books on the counter.

The librarian pushed her glasses up her nose and began to check out the novels, "That's lovely to hear. Do you have a membership with us?"

"Um, no—," she grimaced, shrugging her slipping tote back on her shoulder. "Could I take these out under my friend's name?"

"Sure, love. What's their name?"

"Draco Malfoy."

The older woman snapped her head back to look at Hermione, "Did you just say Malfoy?"

"Sorry — is there something wrong?" her eyebrows tightened in concern.

"No, no," the librarian sighed. "It's just a shame, you know, what happened to that family? I heard one of his relatives went mad while serving... _you know who_. I used to know the little Malfoy when they came on summer holiday. He was such a bright child, his father deserves to go to Azkaban for diminishing it. Darkness follows that family."

She handed the Gryffindor the stack of books, "Just be careful, love."

"I'm not one to believe gossip," Hermione laughed awkwardly, slipping the novels into her bag. "But thank you, I'll return these as soon as possible."

"Come and visit anytime, Miss...?"

"Granger. Hermione Granger."

"It was lovely to meet you, Miss Granger. Be safe out there now, there are storms brewing, ones we can't hide under a roof from."

Hermione gave the old woman a small wave and thanked her again before she stepped out into the afternoon sun.

When she got back to the cottage, Malfoy was still nowhere to be found. The Gryffindor pulled the stack of books from her bag and placed them on the coffee table. She cast a look out the window; she could've sworn the sea was calling her name.

A swim didn't seem like a terrible idea.

After making a pitcher of iced tea and preparing a tray of fresh fruits, Hermione went back into her room. She found a one-piece bathing suit in her trunk and changed into it. Hooking a towel over her arms, Hermione grabbed the refreshments she made and exited the cabin, making her way down to the golden beach.

⚯͛

The water was warmer than she had expected it to be, but it was still cold enough to relax her burning skin. She stepped further into the ocean and waded out deeper. Twisting her body, she flipped over so she was lying on her back — limbs spread in a starfish position — and staring at the blue sky. She felt her curls spread out around her head and she wondered if she should've tied it back. The air was thick with humidity today and the mid-summer heat wasn't doing her frizzy hair any favors, it puffed up within moments earlier, and she had to charm it to tame the wild locks. Thank Merlin she'd done so before Malfoy saw, otherwise, she would've never heard the end of it.

But despite how the sweltering heat made her feel at times, Hermione loved it; the way the hot rays beat down on her back and how the cool sea breeze drifted past her ear. It made her forget about every inevitable danger that was approaching. It felt selfish, but Hermione assured herself that she deserved this.

She deserved to let go of the weight of the world for two weeks.

The thought of Harry and Ron made its way to the forefront of her mind. She hoped they were having fun — wherever they were, whatever they were doing. A spark of guilt flickered in her chest, she should be with them right now. Not swimming in clear seas and planting basil herbs with, of all people, _Malfoy._ They would hate her if they found out. He was their nemesis for Merlin's sake. 

And _Ron_ , poor sweet Ron. Hermione never told him how her feelings for him had gone away, he still looked at her with those same awe-filled eyes. How heartbroken would he be if he found out that she had spent two weeks of the summer holiday with the person he hated most? She could already hear Ron's voice in her ear as he babbled on about her "fraternizing with the enemy" again.

"Granger!"

Speak of the devil.

She returned to an upright position and lifted her arms out of the water, prompting Draco to go on. He was standing on the beach, next to the small table and a reclining beach chair that she'd set up earlier. He was struggling to hold the stack of books in his arms.

Daft blond, he could've used a bag.

"Am I expected to read all this?" he yelled to her, stumbling a bit when the top book shifted out of balance. Hermione cringed and prayed he wouldn't drop any in the sand. The poor books, they deserved to be treated better than this. She waded to shore and stepped out, feeling the heat of the sun immediately.

Squeezing the water out of her hair, she walked to Draco, stopping when she realized he was staring at her. Hermione was suddenly aware of how exposed she now felt in her swimsuit. A blush crept its way up her cheeks and she let out a single cough.

"If you don't want to read all of them, you don't have to," she said, taking the top half of the books and placing them on the table next to the iced tea. The witch held up the first title, "The Gift of the Magi, it's a sweet short story about love and sacrifice."

His face contorted into a look of disgust, "What is it with you Muggles and love stories?"

"This one..." she continued, ignoring his comment — which she realized she had gotten quite skilled at — and lifted the next book on the pile, "is called To Kill A Mockingbird. It's a classic book from the States about racial inequality, it may interest you."

His expression was unreadable on that one. A breeze drifted past them, loosening one of her wet curls. She tucked it behind her hair and pressed forward, "The Great Gatsby. This novel is about an insanely rich man who threw lavish parties in an attempt to find a former lover."

"How does one find someone by throwing parties? That makes no fucking sense," the Slytherin groaned and tossed his head back. "These horrid books are going to give me a bloody headache."

Hermione snickered as she poured herself a glass of tea. She took a sip of the sweet drink and handed him To Kill A Mockingbird, "Start with this, I'll join you."

She conjured a pair of sunglasses and took one of her favourites from the pile: Pride and Prejudice. Seating herself on the beach chair, she began to read. Next to her, Draco was muttering something under his breath — most likely negative comments — as he conjured a chair for himself too.

A few hours into their reading session and as Hermione was biting into a sweet strawberry, Draco turned to her. The sun was halfway past the line where the sea met the sky now and was casting a fiery glow on everything.

"Are you done?" she asked, looking up from the story of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet.

He readjusted his seat so he was facing her, "Yes, I have some questions."

"Which are?"

"Tom didn't commit the crime. Why the hell did they declare him guilty?"

"Because of his skin colour," she looked down sadly. "The all-white jury didn't care if he was innocent or not, they saw a free pass to send a Black man to jail and took it. To them, justice didn't matter. He didn't look like them and they despised that."

"They ignored all the evidence that pointed to innocence and convicted him because his skin colour was _different_?" his voice was lined with anger. "Why the fuck does that matter?"

"It _doesn't_. The system has been and — unless we change it — will always work against non-white people. It shouldn't be this way, but that's how it is, Malfoy."

"And you say Muggles aren't all that bad..." he grumbled, looking out toward the sea.

"Yeah, but wizards aren't exactly perfectly moral either. Or have you forgotten how you've treated me the past few years?"

He returned his attention to her, his facial expression twisting into confusion and disbelief, "What? _"_

"You and your Slytherin buddies have tormented me since we met, simply because I was Muggle-born. Not to mention, the Dark Lord and his army of Death Eaters are planning to eradicate all of us."

"But you are different, you have Muggle parents, there isn't a drop of wizarding history in you," he retorted.

"And that's reason to take our lives? To hate us?"

His eyebrows tightened, "No, but—"

"Congratulations, Malfoy, finally a correct answer," Hermione interjected, reaching for another piece of fruit. "Keep thinking about that, yeah? Do you have any more questions?"

The blond scowled and flipped through the pages; he struggled against the wind. He stopped at a page and scanned through it before he looked up, "Why are we expected to sympathize with this Boo bloke after knowing what he did to his father?"

She swallowed her strawberry, "Well, it's just as the title implies."

"Murdering birds have something to do with a fucked up kid?"

The witch drew in a sharp inhale and set down her book, "Don't take it so literally, Malfoy. Mockingbirds are harmless, yes? They are innocent creatures who don't do much but sing. Harper Lee is implying that killing mockingbirds is essentially killing innocence; it's the whole theme of the story. Boo was subjected to the tyranny of his parents and driven mad by it, his father stole his innocence from him."

"So like Tom?"

"Like Tom," Hemione nodded. "Tom's innocence was stolen away from the white jury. The same theme is present in Scout and Jem too, they're children. They experienced things kids should never experience, their innocence was also ripped from them. Much like us — if you think about it."

"My innocence was stolen from me the second I exited my mother's womb," Draco said dryly, standing up.

"So, did you like it?"

"It wasn't good..." he said and a frown formed on Hermione's face. "But it wasn't the worst thing I've ever read. Not like that Shitspeare crap. I still win the bloody deal."

"Fine, what do you want to do then?"

The Slytherin stood and a smirk teased on his lips, "Leave that to me, I need to go to town to get the necessary items."

He spun on his heels, kicking up a small cloud of sand, and disappeared up the path to town.

Hermione's eyes flickered down to his copy of To Kill A Mockingbird. Every time she tried to hold a conversation with Harry and Ron about books, they'd dismiss her and start their own conversation about Quidditch or whatnot. It was nice to be able to finally hold a conversation about her favourite novels without being ignored. Malfoy hadn't called her a Mudblood in weeks — _months_ , even — she hoped the book helped him understand the absurdity of Pureblood propaganda and how unfair it was to treat people on something they could not change.

The next breeze that blew against her skin sent a chill down her spine and she shivered. She stood and began to gather everything, keeping a cautious eye on the darkening clouds that were coming quickly inland from the sea.

A storm was coming.

⚯͛

" _Merlin_ , what did you buy?" Hermione's eyebrows rose. Draco had tumbled in with a brown paper bag, the sounds of glass bottles clinking against each other. His face was flushed when he entered. A mischievous smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he reached into the bag, pulling out two bottles of Firewhisky.

"Where did — no, _how_ did you get that?" Hermione sputtered; she was practically gawking at him. "You're underage."

"It's simple, really," he shrugged, placing the bottles of alcohol on the kitchen counter. He seemed out of breath. "I stole them."

"Malfoy!" she gasped. "That's not okay!"

"I must've misheard you. I think you meant to say thank you."

Hermione shook her head and returned to preparing dinner. Then midway into cutting a stalk of celery, the realization that he'd gotten _alcohol_ hit her. She spun around to face him again, "What are you planning?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She pointed to the Firewhisky with the knife, "Why do we need that?"

"Lower the weapon before you kill someone, Granger," he said, eyeing the sharp utensil. "You'll find out later, it's a surprise."

Something unpleasant twisted in her gut and Hermione shot him a dirty look. She returned to making dinner as a thousand thoughts ran through her head. Whatever he was planning, it wasn't good and she surely wasn't going to like it.

Two hours later, Draco sat Hermione on the floor in front of the fireplace, seating himself directly across from her. He handed her a bottle of Firewhisky and took one for himself. Outside, the sound of thunder rumbled, causing her to flinch.

"Do storms happen here frequently?" she asked, looking out the open window. The curtains were floating gently with the draft.

He crossed his legs together and followed her gaze, "Summer storms are common here, yes. What's wrong? Are you scared of a little rain?"

"No, just curious," Hermione answered and tore her gaze from the dark sky, she pushed the queasy feeling from her stomach. "What are we doing?"

"We used to play this every Friday night in the Common Room," the Slytherin began as he twisted off the bottle cap. "It's called Never Have I Ever. We'll take turns naming things we have or haven't done. For everything you haven't done, you need to take a shot. Whatever happens in this room, _stays_ in this room. Got it?"

Hermione's heart hammered nervously and she gulped. It was not a surprise to anyone who knew her that she spent most of her free time with her nose stuck in a book.

"First question, never have I ever drank before," he said, a playful glint flickered in his pupils. Rolling her eyes, Hermione lifted her bottle and took a swig. The alcohol created a burning sensation as it traveled down her throat and she shuddered. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, the brunette let out a few coughs before regaining herself.

"That was horrible, do you actually like the taste of this?" she winced, looking at the honey-coloured drink with skepticism.

"I drink it more for the feeling — or lack thereof — not the taste."

"Okay, well, my turn," Hermione nodded slowly. "Never have I ever cheated on an exam."

He snickered and took a swig, "Never have I ever been to a party that wasn't hosted by a school or the Ministry."

"Slytherins aren't the only ones who can have fun in their Common Room once in a while," she rolled her eyes when he looked at her curiously. "Speaking of parties, McLaggen said there was a festival happening in town on Friday."

"Oh, really?" Malfoy looked bored as he took another unprompted shot. "The festival is a nuisance, no fun at all."

"He asked me to go with him today—'

His eyes darted to hers, "Didn't I tell you not to go fucking near him again?"

"I didn't, he approached me," Hermione raised her hands in defense.

"You should've been more careful," Malfoy growled, something in his eyes darkened. "You keep ranting on about avoiding him when you're the one who keeps bloody encountering him."

The witch pressed her lips into a thin line, "I didn't intentionally seek him out."

"You Gryffindors attract each other like moths to a flame."

"Why are you so worked up—"

He cut her off with a question, "What did you say to him?"

"Well, I said no but—"

"Good," the blond said, his voice was thick with venom. "You shouldn't accept any fucking invitations from that twat."

Hermione laughed humorlessly, "I don't ever plan on it, he's even more insufferable than you. Now can we return to the game or are you going to continue acting like a child? I can get you cookies and milk."

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy leaned back on both his arms, a silent indicator for her to continue.

"Thank you," she exhaled, pausing to think of a new prompt. "Never have I ever... fancied anyone."

Both their bottles remained on the floor.

Her eyebrows raised in astonishment, "Who was the unlucky person?"

"I'm not telling you," he snapped.

"I'll tell you mine."

Malfoy shot her a wry look, "Everyone with a pair of working eyes knows you have the hots for Weasley."

"What — how?" she stammered, feeling slightly embarrassed. " _Everyone_?"

"Everyone except for you two, apparently. What do you even see in that fool?"

"He makes me laugh, he's... I don't know... safe," she replied, thinking about the way he used to make her feel. Ron could send set off a storm of butterflies in her stomach with just one of his smiles, but since that kiss by the Great Lake, the butterflies have long turned to dust. "Anyway, I don't have feelings for him anymore. Ron is merely a close friend. Who did you fancy? Parkinson?"

"...Yes," he grumbled begrudgingly. "In the first and second year, I don't want to talk about it, Granger, so don't you start."

Hermione stifled a grin and retracted her comment. Malfoy never seemed like one to develop feelings for anyone; and if he did, she was sure he'd scare them off within minutes.

After a few questions, both of them were beginning to feel the effects of alcohol and their words bled into each other. The storm was right above them now and the sound of heavy rain dancing on the rooftop put her at ease, taking away her nervousness from the beginning of the game — or maybe that was the liquor at work.

"These questions are a bit boring," Malfoy complained when she asked if he ever skipped class. "Ask me something more interesting."

"Like what?" 

"I don't know, something like..." he trailed off into a train of thoughts. Moments later, he startled Hermione by throwing his head back in laughter, "Here I'll go in your place. Never have I ever shagged anyone."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Hermione scowled, "Oh you brat, do you have to be such a creep?"

"Just trying to get to know you better, Granger," he shrugged nonchalantly. "No drink, so you have?"

She glared at him and took another shot, maintaining eye contact with the Slytherin. His drink remained on the floor.

"I'll have you know that I have snogged someone and I am not a complete bore," she said confidently after swallowing the whisky. 

"Oh, I don't think that was ever in question, Granger." The blond smirked as amusement fell over his expression, "Was it Weasley?"

"What's it to you, Malfoy?"

"Is he as terrible as he seems?"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, " No, actually. Ron was wonderful. Brilliant, even." She paused to hiccup, "I could even argue that he was the best kisser of our year — no, of the entire school."

"You're terrible at lying, Granger."

"You're acting as if you could do better."

Hermione regretted it as soon as she said it and she licked her very quickly drying lips, "Wait-"

"Is that a challenge?" Malfoy questioned, his expression was unreadable and she quickly shook her head. He scooted closer to her until their knees were touching, his hand lifted to hold her chin; his thumb rested on the front of it. He tilted her chin up so her golden-brown eyes met his storm-grey ones, "Tell me then, Granger."

Hermione froze and her eyes widened as every nerve in her body screamed at her to pull away; she didn't though.

Couldn't.

Wouldn't.

" _Could_ _I_ do better?" He was closer now, so close that she could feel his breath on him and the scent of pine trees amplified. The sound of thunder crashed overhead and the window curtains fluttered excitedly with the strong winds.

Then he pressed his lips onto her own.

Hermione swore — and she would bring this to her deathbed — that it was the damned liquor controlling her. That there was no way, _not a bloody chance_ , that she willingly kissed him back.

But this...

This kiss was different.

It wasn't disgusting or clumsy; not like the way Ron had kissed her. And to answer his blasted question: it was better, _so much better_.

No, it was quite evident that Malfoy was experienced. Their lips molded together like puzzle pieces falling into place and like polar opposites of a magnet finding each other. She could taste the sharp remnants of Firewhisky on his lips. The way he felt against her was borderline euphoric; how could the way his tongue flicked over her bottom lip feel _so good_ when it was all supposed to be wrong?

 _Wrong_.

 _This was wrong_.

Hermione pushed herself back and widened her eyes — she hiccuped. She had just kissed Draco Malfoy. Cupping her hand over her mouth, she gave him a final look of horror before sprinting on her heels and making a straight beeline for her room. She slammed the door behind her and pressed her face into her pillows, a silent scream ripped out of her throat — muffled by the cushion and sounds of the storm. The interaction couldn't have lasted for more than two seconds, yet it felt like the time around them stopped. The expression on his face before she escaped was a look of... _well_ , shock. He was just as surprised as she was.

Why didn't he pull away first?

Hermione turned to stare at a spot in the ceiling and her fingers grazed over her lips slowly; a lump formed in her throat. The most horrific thing about the interaction was that she actually _liked_ it, and she found herself wanting to kiss him again. The witch felt like she just had a sample and she needed more. Needed to feel his lips against hers again. Needed another taste of him.

She groaned and shut her eyes tightly, grabbing a fistful of her blanket. Hermione willed herself to go to sleep, to fall into a dream that would be much better than her current nightmare reality. Perhaps she'd forget about this tomorrow and it'd all fade away into a drunken blur.

She prayed to Merlin that it would.

It _had_ to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I hope you all enjoyed that. I wanted so badly to update on schedule but I fell sick over the weekend. I'm still a bit lightheaded as I type this. This chapter may be a little lower quality due to my very tired mind, probably should've waited until I was 100% until writing again but I was too excited for this chapter. Anyway, I will do my very best to update by Sunday night (PST) next week. I love you all :)


	8. To My Readers...

Hi everyone,

If you haven't noticed, this story has not been updated for over a month now and I feel terrible about it, especially since I left you all with that cliffhanger. The truth is, I have no idea how to proceed from here. I went into Salt Air without any forms of planning or outlining, just a rough idea of where I wanted the story to go. As I've said before, this story is the very first multi-chapter story I've ever written. Everything I've written before was less than twenty thousand words, so writing Salt Air was a particularly difficult challenge. 

I had a lot of trouble with pacing and the story wasn't going how I intended it to. I wanted them to share their first kiss at Ch. 10 at the soonest, but they did that in Ch 7. Draco was not at all how I wanted to portray him, he became too comfortable with Hermione too fast and I hated that. I've been debating this for over a month now, but I think I have to discontinue Salt Air. There is no future for it. Every time I sit down and try to write a new chapter, I delete it almost immediately because of how forced and terrible it all sounded. I really really don't want to have to do this. You all have shown me nothing but support for this wild ass journey and I cannot express how grateful I am for you all. 

I think why a part of me hates Salt Air this much too is because it is canon-compliant and I wasn't able to flex my creative muscles as much as I had liked to. With that being said, I am so so sorry, I'll have to put Salt Air on an indefinite hiatus. IF, and that's a very big if, I ever feel inspired to continue it, I will! This is saddening for me too, believe me, there were so many exciting plot points I wanted to touch upon. 

But fear not! This is not the last from me (yeah, unfortunately). I've hinted at it before but I am working on a new dramione story that is 100% my idea and allows me to write whatever the hell I want without sticking too closely to the barriers of canon. I've been working on it since late-January and early-February. I got the first chapter finished yesterday and it has been sent to beta readers (super exciting!! I have those now). I actually have a plan and have outlined this story, so let us pray I don't lose the motivation to continue it. I am really excited for you all to read it, all I will share about it now is that it will have a much much darker theme. If beta-ing goes well, the first chapter will be up as soon as this Friday (PST).

If I get good feedback/reaction from the first chapter, then I'll continue it. If not, then I may or may not. I don't want to be putting all my time and effort into something only one or two people will read, ya know? I'm losing sleep because of writing. 

Anyway, that's all from me. If you guys would like, I can upload a new chapter detailing everything I had planned for Salt Air and where it was supposed to go. Let me know! 

Thank you all so so much again. I am so appreciative of each and every single one of you, especially the ones who leave the absolute SWEETEST comments. 

See you soon!

Athena


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